


Alive at Last

by crushing83



Series: Fire and Ice [1]
Category: Angel: the Series, Anita Blake: Vampire Hunter - Laurell K. Hamilton, Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: A New Life, Animators, Anita doesn't like new women in her world, Crossover, Crossover Pairing, Edited Fic, Fluid Sexualities, I will add tags as I go, Kinks, Lycanthropes, Multi, Multiple Relationships, Polyamory, Remix, Slayers, Supernatural - Freeform, Vampire Slayers, Vampires, Willow and Anita do not get along, Willow in St. Louis, Witchcraft, Witches, Wolfram & Hart, crossover AU, evil lawyers, fluid attractions, human servants, magical balance, maybe demisexual Willow, originally published in 2007, pansexual Willow, playing fast and loose with both worlds' mythologies, preternatural, redux, spoilers up to Micah
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-10
Updated: 2018-05-14
Packaged: 2018-12-26 04:01:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 33,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12050874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crushing83/pseuds/crushing83
Summary: After struggling with her magic and the way her friends and family view her using said magic, Willow sets off on her own. It isn't an easy journey to take. Weakened and worried, she ends up in St. Louis and there she finds a community that (mostly) embraces her and gives her a place to recharge her soul and reevaluate her life. She makes friends and forges bonds; she makes a home for herself amongst the kiss, pack, and pard in her own way. When her past life comes back to haunt her at the same time as new dangers strike the St. Louis preternatural coalition, those friendships and bonds are tested. [Originally posted in 2007; currently being rewritten.]





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story was originally on PDS and my fandom LJ. Someone recently contacted me to ask about this series being somewhere else after PDS closed down (which was a sad shock, because there were so many stories I _loved_ on that site that I'll never be able to go back and re-read), and I went hunting for it in my files. And then I started reading it. I never finished the third story in this series, but I remember some of what I wanted to do with it. After reading everything I'd posted, I can't stop thinking about the stories (or the mistakes and flubs I didn't catch) and now it looks like I'm going to be slowly revamping the series, so to speak.

Willow liked to think everything changed between her and her close-knit group of friends shortly after vampires became legal citizens and before magical influence was folded into the criminal code. She liked to think the slayers lost themselves when vampire executioners started doing their job; she liked to think everyone who wasn't a slayer felt the strain of their dark moods at that particular time. 

But, she was smarter than that. 

She knew that their relationships had been damaged since their inception; solidarity and affection came from a determination to survive and those things kept them together until the evil hunting them had been destroyed. 

Everything else that followed after the destruction of Sunnydale became excuses to avoid facing or fixing that damage. 

Willow didn't want to hide behind the excuses anymore. She didn't want her so-called family to look at her as if they feared her---or as if they were repulsed by her. She didn't want to feel guilty for wanting the hum of magic inside of her body. 

So, she left those people---and everything they'd meant to her, both good and bad---behind. 

Not having much in the way of money or possessions made her escape both easier and more difficult. She didn't have to worry about lugging much stuff around but the desire to use her magical powers to assist in her departure and subsequent travels was strong. She knew if she were caught in the act of a felony in which she used magic, she would be in serious trouble; as her resources dwindled, it became harder to ignore that pull deep inside of her. 

Canada felt like her best bet. Before leaving the Watchers' American stronghold, she learned that there were small magical communities scattered through larger cities and the vast countrysides in between them. That the country had yet to add laws against magic was an added bonus and tipped the scales in Canada's favour. She drifted from Vancouver to Edmonton, and then through the Prairies on the train to Thunder Bay. Someone in Granville Island's community told her about Toronto's extravagant and barely-underground magical side and she wanted that to be her home. 

But, before she arrived there, some sort of sickness seeped into her body and soul. In Winnipeg, it was an ache she could ignore. By Dryden, it was an unbearable throb. 

Too much use of some magic, not enough use of other magic, and Willow felt as if she were losing parts of herself. 

Someone found her trembling like a leaf in a small diner. He knew what was wrong with her and he had no trouble telling her about her ailment. 

"Excuse me, Miss," he said, taking the seat opposite her without asking for an invitation. He looked a little rough around the edges, but his blue-green eyes seemed kind. He leaned in, over the table, and whispered, "Go south. It will help." 

"I can't," Willow whispered. 

"You can and you will," he said, "or else you will go crazy here. There isn't enough magic out in the open for you to absorb 'round these parts." 

"Huh?" 

He reached across the table, slowly but surely, and put one of his hands over both of hers. She felt the dry warmth of his skin; under that sensation, she also felt the hum of some sort of magical power. 

"Magic is almost like a being... an entity. There are different kinds, y'know? Like what shapeshifters use, and vampires have their own kind, too. Witches can tap into those, and they have their own. You can't always feel it here, because it's not everywhere---because they hide in the shadows. Down below the forty-ninth, it's different. It's all out in the open there now." 

She looked across the table at the stranger who was still touching her. She could feel his magic swell a bit; his power soothed her frazzled nerves. 

"I'll be okay there?" 

He nodded. "Pick a place that has 'em all out, a city with a district that caters to the weird." 

"Any suggestions?" Willow asked. 

"I'd say St. Louis. If you can get there, might be worth the journey," he replied. "Cape Cod or Chicago could work, too, from what I've heard." 

Willow nodded. She looked down at their hands. His were large, tanned, and rough, suggesting manual labour, and they made her hands look dainty. He made her look harmless---and that was enough to make her want to laugh. 

"You tapped into something dark once," he said quietly. "I know you're tormented by that, but you have to move past it. Focus on the good you can do." 

Startled by his too-on-the-nose comment, Willow jerked her hands away from his. "How did you--- _what_ are you?" 

"I'm something for which there's no name," he replied. He smiled a bit. "You have to embrace what you are and until you do that you won't ever be free of your pain." 

"I did bad things," Willow whispered. "Maybe I shouldn't ever be free of it." 

"And maybe you've punished yourself enough. Accept that magic has no good and evil, only what people do with it," he advised. "Go someplace where magic lives freely and wrap it around yourself. Find people who understand and support you. You will flourish into the witch you are meant to be." 

"Are you a seer?" Willow asked. 

He grinned. "A little from column A and a little from column B." 

"Wh-why don't you go there?" 

"I do when I can," he replied. He gestured towards the sixteen-wheeler out in the parking lot. "I work on the road." 

Feeling her hands start to shake again, Willow pressed them together, interlocking her fingers as tightly as she could. The man held his hands up in an innocent gesture before he moved slowly towards her hands; as soon as he covered them with his, her shaking stopped. 

"How are you doing this?" Willow asked. 

"You're borrowing some of my strength, miss." 

"Willow," she said. "Call me Willow." 

He grinned. "Then you can call me Sampson. Sampson Bouvier." 

"It's nice to meet you," Willow murmured. 

"Do you feel better?" he asked. 

"I do," she said. 

"No one likes to think of magic as being its own, well, being. As something growing underneath the ground or floating in the heavens," Sampson said. "But, when you accept it, your life will become a helluva lot easier." 

"Aren't you ever worried about getting into trouble or... having someone know what you are?" 

Sampson tilted his head to one side, smiling a little. "All the time," he conceded. He shrugged. "I can't stop being who I am anymore than I can stop breathing. I live my life within the bounds of the law now and I try to do good deeds. And I do just about everything in my power not to tip off anyone discriminating." 

"So, you're still hiding." 

His smile stretched into a grin. "Only from those who hate on sight, Willow. No different than any other group of people, is it?" 

She smiled slightly and shook her head. 

"Take care of yourself, Willow," Sampson said. He passed her a scrap of paper and a phone number was on it. "If you ever need anything, give me a call. If I'm close, I'll help." 

He left her alone after that, traces of her magic lingering on her skin. 

Instead of taking the time to plan and think, Willow left almost immediately. She grabbed her backpack from her dingy motel room and found a ride heading closer to the border. Within a couple of days, she was back in the country she'd left a year ago.


	2. Chapter 2

As she stepped down and off of the bus, Willow looked around. It was difficult to discern much from the bus depot, but she couldn't feel anything that indicated St. Louis would be much different from the other cities she'd visited. She didn't know for what exactly she was looking, but she believed she'd know it when she saw it---and she didn't see it yet. 

Minneapolis had been her first stop after crossing the border. There, she'd found plenty of magic to soothe her nerves, to keep her going for a few more days. If the atmosphere had felt less oppressive, less dark, she might have stayed. But, it didn't change and she didn't like it, so she absorbed what she could and moved on to the next major city on her list. 

Before Chicago, she stopped in Milwaukee. She regretted that decision. After crossing paths with the Master of the City, Willow quickly realised she needed to keep moving. The master vampire wanted to keep Willow for her own; she'd lured Willow to her domain with the offer of magic and it took Willow a few days before she could escape, using up more of her strength than she'd expected to slip past human slaves and a few lycanthrope guards. 

Chicago had been better---safer---and the few clubs she'd visited had given her enough energy to keep her going, but it didn't feel _right_. 

By the time she reached St. Louis, she was beginning to wonder if Sampson were a figment of her imagination, telling her things that some part of her mind wanted to believe were true. 

She'd done her research, decided out the Blood District was the best place for her to try to get a fast (and much-needed) boost to her strength, and as soon as she was able to she set off walking in that direction. In the other cities, she'd learned that if she hung out at supernatural-friendly establishments she could absorb some of the strength of the vampires and lycanthropes. Sometimes, she didn't even have to go inside; sitting outside, being around people with power as they milled around and went in and out of the businesses. She would prefer to stay outside; she would prefer to stay out of any evil vampire's clutches. 

It took about thirty minutes for her to walk to the Riverfront. No one bothered her---no one even really looked at her. Even when she hit the sidewalks outside the Laughing Corpse, when even the pavement felt alive with an abundance of energy she'd never encountered outside of Sunnydale, she was unbothered and unnoticed. She was nearly giddy, she felt like she was going to break apart because of the power in that place, but no one noticed her---or the flavour of the power all around them. 

She wasn't sure what to make of that. 

The power outside of Danse Macabre was even stronger. Willow felt her heart thud and flutter in her chest; it was seductive and luxurious and she wanted to touch it _so badly_. The magical power emanating from that club was amazing and terrifying and Willow hurried past the building before she could give into her desire. 

Shivering, Willow hugged her arms around her body and continued down the street at a slow pace. 

She kept walking until she crashed into someone. 

Her backpack with her measly collection of possessions cushioned more of her landing than she thought it would, but she still blinked dazedly up into the night sky as she regained her bearings. 

A blonde head popped into her line of sight, blocking her view of the few stars she could see. 

"You all right?" 

"I... maybe?" 

"I'm sorry, I didn't see you," the girl said. 

She grabbed Willow's hands without hesitation and started pulling her into a sitting position. Once she was a bit more upright, Willow was able to get her legs underneath herself; after a bit more pulling and pushing, she was leaning against the wall of a building that was full of a similar energy to the sort that swirled around the dance club. 

The girl squeezed Willow's hands. "How's that? Better?" she asked. 

"Sort of," Willow mumbled. 

A bottle wrapped in a paper bag crossed her field of vision. 

"Want a sip? It'll make you feel warm." 

Willow turned her head and licked her lips. She was sure talking to _that_ stranger wouldn't help; she had no idea what she would say to a normal person. The girl looked like she was sixteen going on forty-two, a mix of growing up too fast set in a young face; her brown hair was clean and smooth and her face was free of dirt and grime, but her clothes showed wear and tear and plenty of skin, so Willow wasn't quite sure what to make of her attacker-turned-rescuer. 

"Probably better that I don't," Willow whispered. 

"You should be careful out here," the girl said. "This isn't the Tenderloin, but lots of stuff is still for sale down here." 

"Like what?" Willow asked. 

"Like blood," the girl said. She smirked. "Lots of vampires 'round here. The Master of the City doesn't like it when we hang around his clubs," she said, pointing to a building. Willow followed her hand and saw a sign for 'Guilty Pleasures.' The girl continued talking. "He's nicer than most, but if we cause too much trouble he does things to make us go away." 

Willow's eyes widened. "Permanently?" 

The girl laughed. "God, no... he just makes us move to another area of town." She snorted softly, but when Willow shuddered, she softened her face and stance. "C'mon. You look like you need to sit, and there's some grass over by the dumpsters." 

Willow followed. She didn't want to sit next to a dumpster, but the idea of sitting down away from all the people on the street was appealing. It seemed easier to go along with the girl instead of protesting. Once they were settled, Willow propped against the wall of a building and the girl sitting cross-legged across from her, the girl smiled a bit. 

"Better?" 

Willow nodded. "Thanks," she whispered. 

"They call me Kim." 

"Nice to meet you," Willow said, smiling a bit. "I'm Willow." 

"Well, welcome to St. Louis," Kim said. "The Blood District isn't safe, but it isn't dangerous, either. Word on the street is the Master of the City's dating a vampire executioner, so he doesn't break the law... doesn't want her on his case, I guess, yeah? That'd kill the romance." 

Willow pressed her lips together and filed that piece of information away. She didn't really think it was valuable, but thinking about it reminded her of Buffy and Angel (or Buffy and Spike), in a way, and made her heart hurt. She missed Buffy; she missed her old life. The bad feelings didn't erase that love, no matter how hard she wished it could. Closing her eyes against tears that welled up at the thought of her once-best friend, she tipped her head back against the wall and focused on her breathing. 

"Hey... are you okay? Are you... do you need drugs or something?" Kim asked. "You're shaking awfully bad." 

"N-no. No drugs," Willow mumbled. 

She forced her hands into the cold grass. She tried to imagine the magic of the earth venturing up to meet her fingertips, but she couldn't feel anything warm brushing against her skin. 

"Oh... you're trying to quit," Kim said before sighing loudly. Willow looked at her as she started moving around. She pulled a pack of cigarettes out of her pocket. With a couple of quick movements, she lit two and handed one to Willow. "Here. Try this. When you try to drop one addiction, it can help to pick another up." 

To give herself something to do, Willow took it. Smoking had never appealed to her. She brought it up to her lips; she didn't double-inhale, though, because the last thing she wanted was another addiction. Magic was dangerous enough and she didn't want to worry about getting cancer on top of everything else that was happening inside of her body. 

"I have to go," Kim said quietly. She capped her bottle of alcohol and set it against Willow's leg. "Will you be okay if I leave you here?" 

"Yeah," Willow replied. "I just need a few minutes to clear my head. I'll be fine." 

Kim smiled a bit. "If you want more to smoke or drink, there are stores a couple of streets---" she pointed off in the direction from where Willow had come "---that way." 

Willow forced herself to smile back. "Thanks." 

A moment later, Kim was gone. They shared another smile and a wave when Kim turned back to look at her before disappearing into the busy street, but then she was gone and Willow was alone again. She closed her eyes. She knew she had to keep moving, keep looking for a place where she could recharge, but the process had been so discouraging so far and nothing like what she'd expected when Sampson told her what she should do. 

Warm energy brushed against her. Whatever business Guilty Pleasures was, it seemed to have a lot of delicious energy building inside of it. The building couldn't contain it all there was so much power within its walls. Willow shuddered and whimpered softly under its warm and gentle pressure. As much as she wanted to let down her inner shields and absorb it all, she was still afraid of what magic could do to her. She didn't know how to step forward, embrace the touch, and let go of her pain.


	3. Chapter 3

When Asher growled, Buzz wisely stepped out of his way. He marched past the bouncer, shoved open the door to the back entrance, and stomped outside. The night air cooled his skin; it couldn't cool his desires. 

Nathaniel was on the main stage, writhing and wriggling to a song that had lyrics capable of riling anyone. Asher had watched for a minute, until his lust nearly sent him up there after Nathaniel, and then he forced himself to walk away. 

He'd gone to Jean-Claude's office for refuge. When he opened the door and saw Jean-Claude and Anita kissing, he couldn't hold in his sigh of frustration. 

No amount of pleading from Anita's painted red lips could convince him he should stay there. He knew, from his own recollection and talking with Jean-Claude that Anita had not been around much lately. Asher missed her, too, but she was Jean-Claude's human servant and their relationship took precedence over any of the others in her heart. 

Fleeing the building was his only option for regaining peace of mind. He hoped the crisp November air would help, but so far, it wasn't doing much. 

His situation annoyed him. He loved Anita, but he could not have all of her. He wasn't alone in that position; she held something back from every man in her life. Beyond that, she prevented them from seeking any sort of relief amongst themselves---for those who shared same-sex attractions---or with other people. Asher could not love her every day but he couldn't love anyone else, either. He suspected if Anita walked into the bedroom and found him with Jean-Claude, entwined as they'd often like to be, she would freeze them out for a long period of time. 

But, he loved Anita. She brought love back into his life. She and Jean-Claude gave him a home, a family, a purpose... and all that love. 

He was stuck between a rock and a hard place and it was beginning to drive him mad. 

A soft whimper in the shadows caught his attention. His first thought was to the coffin bait that lingered around Jean-Claude's clubs, either to make money or to seek satisfaction (or both), and he was suddenly looking forward to chasing away whoever it was. A confrontation, no matter how tame, would give him a release for some of his frustration. 

Asher followed the sound past the dumpsters. His frustration gave way to surprise when he saw a woman curled up in a tight ball; she was trembling even though she seemed unconscious. 

He kneeled down in the grass next to her. The young woman was in some sort of pain, but beyond that she was beautiful. He never had the ability to see or feel a person's soul, but as soon as he put his hand on her shoulder he felt a thrill of _something_ run through him and he longed to learn all about her. 

As long as she remained unaware, he couldn't learn everything about her. He was forced to take in what he could with her eyes. She wasn't dirty and she wasn't scantily clad. Asher assumed she wasn't homeless or selling her body. There was a burned out cigarette and a bottle of cheap whisky in the grass next to her; a quick sniff of the air she was exhaling told him she didn't drink or smoke. He didn't understand why both vices were with her if they weren't hers. 

_"Excusez-moi,"_ he said in a quiet voice, squeezing her shoulder. 

She didn't look up at him; she didn't open her eyes. She shuddered and shivered and made a soft noise in her throat. 

When he put his other hand on her cheek, she continued to tremble even as she pushed up into his touch. He smoothed her hair back from her pale face and looked down at her. She stirred, eyelashes fluttering, before blinking up at him. If Asher had been breathing, her eyes would have stolen away his breath. They were stunning, a multitude of colours; at first glance he could see greens and golds, but with a second look he could see blues and silvers and a hint of copper. Green was too common a description for such eyes. He didn't think he could do them justice. 

_Comme un colibri_ [Like a hummingbird], Asher silently mused. 

Even if he never saw her again, he would always think of her as a hummingbird---not because of her size, although she was smaller than him, but because of her eyes and the way her energy seemed to be vibrating under his hands. 

"Are you well?" Asher asked. 

"Get it over with," she whispered. "Please." 

Asher frowned. That wasn't a response he anticipated---a cry for help, perhaps, but not a plea for death. He wasn't sure what he should do; he knew he couldn’t leave her outside the club for someone with fewer scruples to find. With his mind unsure but still made up, he swung her bag over his shoulder and gathered her into his arms. 

_"Venez avec moi, mon colibri_ [Come with me, my hummingbird]," he murmured. "I will not hurt you," he added in English, knowing it was unlikely she understood French. "I will take you inside and find you some food." 

"No," she whispered. 

"Well, I will not let you commit a slow, agonising suicide outside of our business," he replied. 

He carried her to the back entrance. Instead of balancing her in one arm, he used his boot-clad foot to kick at the door. 

Buzz opened it. As soon as he saw the woman in his arms, he gave Asher a strange look. Asher, not willing to be cowed by a vampire so young, glared back at him. Buzz may have been young, but he wasn't an idiot; he kept his mouth shut, even though Asher was certain he had plenty to say on the subject. 

_Can't go saving everyone, Asher! Are we opening a halfway house? Better not let Anita see you with her, you know how she gets, man._

Instead of going to Jean-Claude's office, he went to the room in which most of Guilty Pleasure's business was conducted. He, Elinore, and a couple of the others who managed the bulk of business affairs while Jean-Claude was managing the kiss used an office at the other end of the hall. He was stationed there for the next few months while Elinore was conducting other business back at the Circus---they often switched off duties to keep from getting too bored---and he knew it would be the best place for the young woman, to keep her from prying eyes that were paired with loose lips. 

As soon as she was settled on the sofa, his coat draped over her for added warmth, he dropped her bag down on his desk and reached for his phone. When he called the main dressing room, Jason answered; Asher asked him to bring some food to his office, anything he could find that wasn't too heavy, Jason agreed without asking a question or making a smart remark. 

He put down his phone and watched the young woman. She was watching him, too, and he found that to be curious; few mortals would look him in the eye, unwilling to risk being rolled or bespelled by power. 

"You're not going to eat me?" she asked. 

_"Non, mon colibri_ , I am not going to eat you." 

She frowned. "But you're a vampire." 

_"Oui."_

"Do you have a soul, too? Is that why you're not eating me?" she asked. "You haven't... gone all 'grrr' yet. Is that why?" 

Asher frowned. "I don't... what do you mean? 'Grrr?'" 

"Y'know, the forehead bumps." 

"Ah," Asher said quietly. He smiled as he realised he understood her, finally, and then his smile faded as he realised to what she was referring. _"Les vampires démoniaques?_ You have seen them?" 

"More than seen them," she replied. 

_"Mon dieu,"_ he breathed. 

With her answer, he understood why she could meet his eyes. She had more experience with the Master's kin; she did not fear what other vampiric lines could do with their individual strengths. 

"What?" 

Asher leaned against his desk. "A long time ago, one of the members of the Vampire Council was _le Seigneur et Maître_ [the Lord and Master]. He did not have the power of fear, like some who should not be named, or the power of seduction, like our _Belle Morte_. Instead, he had the power of..." he trailed off and waved his hand as he searched for the right word in English. "It was very... full of... _animalité_. He thought like an animal. And so did those of his line. It took over their faces. 

"He terrified people, without clouding their minds and feeding off of that energy. He liked the hunt, the case... he claimed it made his victims' blood flow faster and warmer." Asher paused and shrugged. "In the end, the Council feared that he would ruin the empires they were carefully building." 

With another casual shrug, Asher continued talking. "When he sired Darla, they decided he needed to be controlled. They aimed to trap him, mystically, because they could not risk assassination. But he and Darla, they were a wicked combination. It took some time." 

"Darla," the young woman echoed. She frowned. "Blonde hair? Cute in an evil way? I've met her." 

"Did you like her?" 

She smiled a bit and shook her head. Asher smiled back at her. "Few liked her, except for her sire and her _Ange Déchu_ [Fallen Angel]---" 

"Angelus?" she asked. 

Asher tilted his head and studied the woman on his sofa. He was surprised and impressed she knew the vampires of whom he spoke. He couldn't imagine what would have taken her on such a dangerous path. 

_"Oui."_

"He lives," she said. "Or... at least, I think he still does. But, he has a soul. He does good things now." 

"And that is the difference with our kind and their kind," Asher explained. "Their souls burned away. Vampires of other lines... generally, we die at dawn, our souls depart, and we are reborn when our souls return, while they are cursed to live every day and night, with no rest." 

"Neat," she said, before her teeth started chattering. 

Asher frowned. She was covered in his coat, but she needed more warmth. Pushing off from his desk, he strode to the coat closet; he hoped someone would have left another heavy garment behind, but he was pleasantly surprised when he found a stack of thick blankets. He pulled out two and brought them over to her. 

He helped her to sit up. When she was settled, he draped the coat over her shoulders and eased her back into the cushions before covering her with the two blankets he'd brought out of the closet. She sighed and the shivering slowed. 

"Th-thanks," she whispered. 

He smiled when he caught her turning her head into the collar of his coat. She inhaled and made a happy humming sound; she squeaked and blushed when she saw that she'd been caught. 

"Sorry." 

"Do not apologise, _mon colibri_. The simple pleasures in life are important," he murmured. At the sound of a knock against the door, Asher turned his head, making sure to keep the right side of his face hidden by his hair. _"Entrez,"_ he called out. 

Jason cracked open the door and stuck his head inside the office. "I heated up some pasta Vivian made," he said, holding out a small container. "Stephen said you could have it. But, if you want a sandwich, I could call over to---" 

"This is fine, thank you," Asher interrupted. 

Sauntering into the room---only pausing to close the door behind him---Jason waited until he rounded the sofa before passing Asher the dish of noodles. He looked from Asher to the young woman and grinned. 

"So... who's the stray?" 

"Jason, don't you have work to do?" Asher asked. 

"I can't help it, I'm curious by nature," Jason replied, still grinning. 

Asher smiled back at him. "I know. Please go back to whatever it was you were doing." 

"Yes, sir," Jason said before giving Asher a sloppy salute. 

When they were alone again, Asher looked at his charge. "Would you like to try to eat something?" He asked, offering the dish to her. "You will probably feel better afterwards." 

"It's not... food hunger," she said. 

"But, it is a hunger and they are all connected," he corrected her. "You forget that vampires know more about different hungers than most." 

"Yes, well... still," she murmured. "I know what it is. And it's not food." 

Curious about what she was saying---and what she wasn't saying---Asher smiled and perched on the coffee table next to her. "It has been my experience that feeding one helps the others," he said. "Would you like to tell me about what has you hungry?" 

"I'm a witch," she mumbled. 

"Ah, _une sorcière_ [a witch]," he murmured, smiling again. He tilted his head to the left, still carefully shielding his face. He didn't want to scare her off when they were getting to know each other. Thinking of the stories Anita told him, when she had yet to accept her necromancer abilities, he asked a series of questions. "And what sort of trouble are you in? Magical withdrawal? What inspired you to deny yourself the right to use your powers?" 

Her eyes widened. Her heart rate increased. To reassure her, Asher squeezed her hand in his. _"Mon colibri_ , you should not look so surprised or frightened." 

"But... how do you... are you reading my mind?" 

"Hardly," he replied. "But, as you give me more pieces of... of... _le casse-tête_ [the puzzle], I am able to solve it more quickly." 

"Oh." 

"You are not as much of a mystery as you would like to be---especially to someone who is more mysterious than you," he said, taking pleasure in the way his words made her smile. 

"So... you're not going to eat me," she said. 

"No, but I will feed you," he said, putting the dish of food in her hands. _"D'accord_ [All right]?" 

With a nod, she picked up the fork and started stirring it through the noodles. She took a few hesitant bites; Asher watched as colour slowly returned to her face, as she eating with more enthusiasm. Satisfied that they were taking care of one of her hungers, Asher slipped off of the coffee table and returned to his desk. He could at least try to do some work while she ate the food. The next week's lineups still had to be sorted and finalised, after all.


	4. Chapter 4

As she woke up, Willow groaned quietly. Her head hurt, but she felt better than she had in a long time. Whatever was in that pasta---or whatever was in the building around her----was definitely helping her energy levels. 

However, when she looked around and found that she was no longer stretched out on the sofa but lying in a bed in a bedroom she'd never seen before, she started to panic. 

"Easy, you're okay." 

She turned her head too quickly. She whined as dizziness swept through her. 

Jason---the man from earlier, the man with the pasta---was sitting on a chair near the bed. 

"Sorry for scaring you," he apologised. He smiled a little. "I'm Jason." 

"I remember," she whispered, her voice hoarse and thick with sleepiness. 

"It's always nice to know I've made an impression," he teased. 

Willow couldn't resist smiling at him. He leaned forward, resting his hands on his knees; Willow noticed he was wearing a pair of small shorts and nothing else. His blue eyes were sparkling at her and his smile was warm and open. While his near-nakedness might have made her uncomfortable, his friendly expression suggested there was no malice in his soul and she wanted to be able to trust him. 

However, she didn't trust herself so she doubted trust with another was even possible. 

"Asher asked me to stay in here with you until he got back," Jason said. 

"Asher?" 

"The guy who brought you into the club and warmed you up? You guys didn't introduce yourselves before you got all cosy?" Jason asked. "And here, I thought he was a gentleman." 

"He is," Willow insisted. 

"He told the Master of the City you'll be staying with us until you're on your feet again," Jason added. "Surprisingly, he's okay with it. Well, maybe not too surprising. I mean, they're pretty close and all." He paused and shrugged. "Anyway, they want you to stay inside these rooms for now---just because we've got shapeshifters all over the place and then there will be vampires at night and neither of them want you to panic." 

"Werewolves?" Willow asked. 

Jason nodded. "And wereleopards and wererats and werelions," he replied. 

To hide her fear at learning she was in the middle of so many shapeshifters, she smiled. "Neat," she said. 

"You don't have to be scared of us," Jason told her. "We won't hurt you. Or anyone, if we can help it." 

She studied him. His earnest posture and open face went a long way to easing her nerves, giving way for her curiosity to leak free. She felt more stable than she had in a very long time, and she didn't think it would cost her much to try to reach out and discern what species of shapeshifter Jason was---or, first, if he were a shapeshifter, at all. 

Just as she decided to open up to more of her magical abilities, Jason cleared his throat. The invisible muscle she'd been trying to flex froze as she looked into his eyes. 

"I'm a werewolf," he said. 

"What?" Willow asked. 

"Asher said you're a witch. I don't get the murder vibe from you, so I'm guessing the tingles meant you were trying to figure out what I am?" 

Willow felt her cheeks flush. She didn't like getting caught---even when she was weak enough to be clumsy. But, instead of poking fun or commenting on her lack of skill, Jason just smiled at her. 

"How?" Willow asked. 

"I've been around enough magic and stuff to be able to pick up on a bit," he said. "I'm not the most sensitive, but I can pick up on a little." 

His explanation made sense. Willow had been around enough slayers and preternatural beings; she knew some could sense when she cast a spell and some could not, and some developed a different detection sense over time. Kennedy hadn't (ever) been particularly sensitive, but over the time they spent together, she learned what to look for to determine if Willow had been using her powers. 

After a long stretch that showed off a lot of his lean body, Jason leaned back in his seat. "So... do you have a name?" he asked. 

She nodded. The pillow was soft and smooth against her cheek. It was the most luxurious pillow she'd had the pleasure of using in months. It felt good. 

Jason's smile turned into a grin. "Are you gonna tell me what it is? Or do I have to start guessing?" he asked. 

"I'm Willow," she said. 

"Oh, I like that. It suits you," he said. Leaning forward again, he stretched his hand out towards her. "It's really nice to meet you, Willow. Officially." 

At first, she was hesitant to touch someone else. She'd tried that in Minneapolis, and it hadn't ended well for her; she'd absorbed someone's negative energy and it became her own. But, Jason's hand didn't seem malicious in intent and there were no bad vibes coming off of him. Willow missed touch; being carried by Asher had been the most she'd ever been touched by another person in months, and she missed it all over again as she looked at Jason's hand. 

She put her hand in Jason's before he could retract the gesture. "It's nice to meet you, officially, too, Jason," she murmured. 

His hand was a steady, solid weight against hers. His skin was warm and benign; there was no sense of his power trying to make its way into or over her. For a moment, Willow wanted to hug him. But, before she could even sit up and suggest doing _anything_ else, a door in another nearby room opened and closed. 

"Jason? Your master would like to speak with you," the vampire from the night before---Asher---called out towards the bedroom. 

"Ah. Jean-Claude calls," Jason said quietly. He smiled again at Willow. "Hopefully I'll see you later." 

For a split second, Willow wondered if she'd reached the end of her time in St. Louis---or the end of her life---and something of her thoughts must have shown on her face because Jason squeezed her hand. 

"Don't worry," he said. "Asher won't eat you. He won't let anyone else eat you, either. You're under his protection." 

"I... am?" 

He nodded. "Of course." Over his shoulder, Jason peeked at the open doorway. He turned his attention back to Willow, his smile turning into a smirk as he looked back at her. "If he wants to bite you---which I'm sure he does---he'll ask you first. And if you say 'yes,' you'll probably love it," he said. 

Willow felt her cheeks warming and she knew they were turning a bright pink colour. She blushed---it was easy to fluster her, it always had been---but something about Jason and Asher made it happen even more easily. 

"You are... an amazingly infuriating---" 

"That's why everyone loves me," Jason interrupted. 

He rose from his chair---pausing only to boldly press a quick kiss into Willow's hairline---and sauntered out of the bedroom. 

Willow smiled. She turned onto her back, resting on the soft pillows between the expensively smooth sheets. She listened to the men as they talked on the other side of the open doorway. Asher spoke in French; Jason replied in English. She assumed Jason knew Asher pretty well, to at least be able to understand what had to be Asher's maternal language. She didn't know who the Master of the City was, but she started to wonder if he and Jean-Claude were the same person, from the snippets of conversation she could hear clearly. She couldn't put anything else (useful) together. Apart from a possibility for the identity of the Master of the City, all Willow could gather was that Jason flirted with male vampires, too, and that Asher enjoyed Jason's antics even though he tried to sound stern. 

After Jason left, Willow fully expected Asher to enter the bedroom but he didn't even peek into the doorway. She wondered what he was doing out there, worrying over whatever was going to happen next until she decided to bite the metaphorical bullet and venture into the next room. 

She sat up in the bed, reluctantly pulling herself free of the sinful bedding, and looked around the room. There were two wardrobes along one wall and a privacy screen was folded up and tucked in the corner next to them. On the opposite wall, there was a large bookshelf, full of books both new and old; a small writing desk was in the corner opposite the privacy screen. A few feet from the bed, she saw another door, slightly ajar. As soon as she leaned over the edge of the mattress she could see that door would take her to the bathroom. 

The carpet under her feet was plush and thick. Her toes sank into its depths. She closed her eyes as she explored its softness. 

Everything in the bedroom was of a quality Willow couldn't even imagine. The more she catalogued her surroundings, the more out of place she felt. 

She had no idea what she was doing there. 

She also had no idea what happened to her jeans. 

As soon as she realised her legs were bare, she started taking stock of the rest of her appearance. She was wearing her t-shirt and underwear but she was missing her socks, jeans, sweater, and jacket. Her bag was on the floor by the wardrobes, but it didn't look like her other clothes were with it. She wondered who undressed her---was it Asher? was it Jason?---and she felt a squirming of embarrassment in the pit of her stomach. 

On the other side of the bed, there was a pale green garment stretched across the duvet. Willow assumed it was a dress; picking it up revealed that it was a robe. The fabric was as soft as the bedding---perhaps more---and there was embroidery of leaves and berries along the collar and cuffs. It was beautiful, more beautiful than anything Willow had ever owned; the idea of wearing it was as upsetting as it was delightful. 

Temptation won out over her anxiety. She shrugged out of her t-shirt and slipped into the robe. It felt as good against her body as it had against her fingertips. After a quick stop to the bathroom that took a little longer so she could process the size of the bathtub in the centre of the chamber, she ventured out of her solitude and sought the vampire who brought her to a safe place. 

When she found Asher, she saw him sitting on a sofa with a newspaper in his hands. She couldn't see the right side of his face; it was shielded by a curtain of curly, golden hair. The eye she could see was scanning the periodical at a rapid pace; he could have been skimming, but Willow guessed he was reading at that speed. She hoped, anyway. If she was able to stick around and get to know her vampiric savior, she wanted intelligent conversation. 

"Hi." 

Asher looked up immediately. The left corner of his mouth curled up into a smile. Willow thought about avoiding his gaze---she knew it could be dangerous, depending on his powers---but she didn't get the sense that he was looking to hurt her. She made eye contact without hesitation. Nothing bad happened. 

"Ah. _Mon colibri_ , it is good to see you on your feet," he said. "I trust you slept well?" 

"Yeah," she murmured, stepping further into the room and leaving the doorframe behind. "Thank you. For taking me in. For letting me stay here. You don't know me and you... you just took care of me." 

"In my time here, I have learned that sometimes we all need a little help," he said. Willow didn't think she was going to get a better explanation for his actions. Before she could push for more information, he gestured towards her with one gloved hand. "The robe suits you." 

After a quick glance at her clothing, she smiled. "It's a beautiful robe," she said. "Thank you for letting me wear it. I, uh, I hope no one is missing it?" 

Asher shook his head. His hair didn't move from the right side of his face. "I was able to send someone to procure it, before I slept for the day. It is yours for as long as you'd like to have it." 

"Oh. I... wow. Thank you." 

"Do stop thanking me, _mon colibri_ ," Asher murmured, still smiling. "I am happy to help." 

She smiled back at him. She hadn't noticed earlier, in her trembling state, but being called a hummingbird was oddly endearing. She didn't want to tell him that, though, because she felt it would be prudent to keep her understanding of French a secret. Until she had a better sense of her situation in St. Louis' preternatural community, she would hang onto any advantage no matter how small it was. 

"Willow," she said. "My name is Willow." 

Asher's smile grew in size. "So you have a name." 

"I have a name," she echoed. 

"Willow," he said, as if he were rolling her name about in his mouth and testing its feel. 

In his thick French accent, her name sounded exotic. It had only ever sounded bohemian (at best) before. A hope to be allowed to linger, and to be allowed to hear him say her name like that again, blossomed in her heart. She wanted to be special; she wanted to belong in a place that made her feel good and special and _safe_. 

She shivered against that hope and slipped into the armchair next to the sofa, curling her legs up underneath her. 

"You fell asleep in my office last night and I brought you here myself before morning," he said. "You were still sleeping after I woke this afternoon." 

"I... what?" 

Asher folded his newspaper and tossed it onto the coffee table. "Was I wrong in assuming you would want that information?" he asked. 

Willow shook her head. After tucking her hair behind both ears, she said, "You're right. Tha---" 

"Willow." 

"---nks." She stuck her tongue out at him. "Deal with it. I'm feeling grateful." 

Before Willow could worry about the repercussions of (mildly) sassing a vampire, Asher chuckled. She breathed a quiet sigh of relief. His quiet laughter continued for a minute or so, allowing her to enjoy the sight of him expressing amusement. 

"You are a breath of fresh air, _mon colibri,"_ Asher murmured. "Now, before you waste away, what would you like to eat?" 

"To eat?" Willow repeated. 

"Witches still eat food, _oui?"_ he asked. When Willow nodded, he said, "There is a wide variety of food here, for vampires and shifted lycanthropes as well as for those who can enjoy human tastes." 

"Are you always so eloquent?" Willow asked. 

Asher smiled, dipping his head towards her. "Perhaps, what I lack, I make up in other areas," he replied. 

"I don't know you well enough, but from where I'm sitting, you're not lacking anything," Willow said. As she processed what she'd said, her cheeks flushed a bit. "I... oh. I swear I'm not coming onto you," she added. "I mean that respectfully." 

He chuckled again. When he was finished he asked her, again, if she'd like something to eat. When she told him that she'd take some coffee, if there was a pot of it somewhere, Asher nodded. He stood up, walked to the door built into the stone wall, and opened that door. 

A woman was standing in the hallway. She was tall and slender, with angular features set in a dark complexion. Willow was too far away to discern the colour of her eyes, but her gaze was bright---somehow---as she looked into the suite. Asher's voice was quiet and he gestured with his hands; the woman nodded when he finished speaking and turned away only when he dismissed her. Willow wasn't sure what sort of interaction she'd witnessed, but she had a feeling that the woman wasn't as high in their ranks as Asher was. 

Asher closed the door and returned to the sofa. "Someone will bring coffee and breakfast to you," he told her. 

"I only want---" 

"All hungers must be satisfied in order for one to be balanced," he said, interrupting her. "You have not been satisfying your basic human hungers, making it much more difficult to control your magical hungers." 

"I don't know if that's a good idea," Willow mumbled. 

"Using magic?" Asher asked. When she nodded, he continued talking. "But you are a witch. I certainly won't mind if you choose to do something neutral here, if there are rituals you need to perform to centre yourself." 

"I can't." 

Asher tilted his head. "Can't or won't?" he inquired. "Are you so afraid of what will happen?" 

"Well... yes, maybe." 

He shrugged. "Fear not, _mon colibri_ , for I will not judge you." 

His attitude was refreshing and unsettling at the same time. Willow looked at him, trying to see some of what she'd witnessed in the Master of Milwaukee or in her friends and family; when she could only see mild interest, with no dangerous edge of power behind it, Willow didn't know what to think. 

"Why?" she asked. 

"Why do you think I should judge you when I have a past of my own?" he replied. 

"Oh." 

Asher smiled and relaxed back into the sofa's cushions. "We live in a grey area here. You will not shock me." 

"Are you sure? Because I've... done some shocking things." 

His smile softened as he sighed. "I am an old vampire and I have seen almost too much in the past few years alone," he said. "What would you do? Sacrifice a human's blood to appease your gods? _Non,_ you do not seem the type. Perhaps, in your quest for knowledge and strength you tasted something that scares you? Well, we are all powerful here and you cannot easily harm us. You cannot easily scare us, either." 

Willow frowned. She toyed with the embroidery on the cuffs of the robe she was wearing. "Is it... for you, if you drink too much blood, or the blood of someone powerful, is it too much? Or dangerous?" she asked, avoiding his eyes to hide her shame. "I mean, I felt giddy and high and invincible and... maybe everyone was right, maybe I am evil, even though I was trying to do good, more recently, but---" 

"Why did 'everyone' say that?" Asher asked. "Why are you listening to them?" 

She looked up at him. He was no longer lounging. Leaning forward, elbows on his knees, Asher seemed both cross and concerned. 

"They're my friends," Willow whispered, "my family." 

"And yet they made you feel as if your strengths and abilities are something to bury in shame," he said. "Is that why you left?" 

"They were looking at me like... like I'm a monster." 

With a sigh, Asher's body language tightened and tensed before it relaxed and softened again. He inched towards the end of the sofa closest to Willow. "You are not a monster, _mon colibri_ ," he said. "As anyone here can tell you, having additional strength or powers is a burden as much as it can be a gift. But, one moment cannot define us. We are more than one event, one mistake." 

"But, they---" 

As soon as Asher's hand touched Willow's fingers, she felt a pleasant tingle of _something_ between her skin and his glove. He resumed speaking before she could ask if he were feeling that same sensation. 

"Nothing will hurt you here," he promised, his voice soft but fierce, "and no one will consider you abnormal, since we are all abnormal here in our own ways." 

"So..." 

"If you wish to make the newspaper float to you so you may read it, make it float," Asher continued. "If you wish to change your appearance with a glamour spell, feel free to do so---although you do not have to. If you live more or less within the boundaries of the law, if you mean to help and not hinder, then you are not doing anything wrong. Be who and what you are meant to be." 

Asher's words and the touch of his hand were a potent combination to her aching heart. Even though she didn't know him at all, she couldn't shake the notion that he was being completely honest with her. Her lower lip trembled before she could try to hide her emotions. 

"Just like that?" she asked. 

Asher squeezed her hand. _"Oui."_

So often, she wanted to hear those words from Kennedy, Buffy, Xander, and the others in their small-but-slowly-expanding group. Few people ever gave her the option to be herself---her true self. Tears welled up in her eyes; before she could blink them back they were running down her cheeks. Could it be so easy? She'd wanted a judgment-free zone since she started exploring magic; for a while, after leaving the coven, she didn't think she deserved such a place, but the desire returned as she worked herself up to leaving the slayers and watchers behind. Because she wanted a home that accepted her, so, _so_ much, she had doubts that she'd get to put roots down in St. Louis; because she wanted to find a place where she would fit, she fully expected to be turned away from the first city that seemed more welcoming than terrifying. 

"Shh, shh, _mon colibri,"_ Asher whispered. His fingers left her hand and wiped over her cheeks. _"Vous êtes saine et sauve_ [You are safe and sound]." 

Asher's fingers were cool, even through the soft cloth gloves he was wearing. She wished they were touching, skin to skin, so she could feel his flesh and try to sense something---anything---of his true intentions, but his covered hands were still calming and grounding enough to help her keep her tears at bay. 

"I guess I'm still tired," she whispered. 

"Do not lie," he insisted. "I'd prefer it if there are no lies between us." 

Willow would prefer that, too. As much as she hoped Asher was truthful, too, she hoped more that their truths were similar. She wanted a friend. 

"You're... saying all the things I want to hear," she told him. "We don't know each other, you don't owe me anything, but you're... saying... and doing! You're taking care of me. Am I allowed to stay here? Does the Master of the City want me for my power? Because the last one I ran into was terrifying and I don't think I'm up for more of that. If I'm not allowed to stay, I should go so I don't get attached. And I don't want to cause you any trouble, eith---" 

"You have a very busy mind," he commented, cutting off her ramble. "For now, you are welcome to stay until you feel more like yourself. The Master of the City would prefer you stay in my suite, but if you'd rather be on your own I could find you a room and station someone outside your door." 

"Am I a---" 

"Prisoner? _Non,"_ Asher said. "But, until we all know each other better..." 

"If you don't mind, I'd rather have a roommate than a guard," Willow whispered. 

With a brief nod, Asher slipped his hands from Willow's face and patted one of them against her knee. "I do not want anything from you, _mon colibri,"_ he said. "I simply... feel as if you need help that is in my power to give you. When you are well, you are free to find your home, wherever that may be." 

"And if I like it in St. Louis?" Willow asked. 

"Then, I look forward to being able to see you flourish." 

Not knowing what else to say, Willow fell silent. She looked into Asher's eye---not eyes because he was still hiding part of his face behind his hair---and nodded a little. He smiled at her. A knock at the door prevented both of them from saying anything else. 

The woman from earlier came into the room, carrying a tray. The scents of baked goods and coffee greeted Willow and set her stomach to focus on her physical hunger instead of her anxieties. As soon as the tray was set on the coffee table, positioned so Willow could see the muffins and pastries next to a small pot of coffee with all the fixings, Willow's insides started rumbling. 

_"Merci,_ Acantha," Asher said. 

She nodded and left them alone again. 

Willow barely had time to add enough cream and sugar to her first mug of coffee before Asher was sighing and rising to his feet. He told her he was being summoned to feed someone or something he called _l'ardeur_ , but she was free to make use of anything she could find in his rooms and Acantha would be outside the main door if she needed anything he didn't possess. 

Asher left her alone with the promise that he would return in a few hours, at the most. As soon as the solid wooden door closed behind him, Willow turned her attention to the food on the tray; she hadn't wanted to inconvenience Asher for food but the pastries were both sweet and savoury, calling to her sweet tooth as well as her appetite, and with no one around to witness her gluttony she all but attacked the platter. 

Into her second treat, Willow thought about what Asher had said before he left. He'd said something about being part of a feeding. He could have meant providing food for someone, but she didn't think that was right. He'd made it sound more like _he_ was the food. 

The idea that someone or something could feed off of a vampire made Willow a little uneasy. Asher hadn't seemed wary or reluctant; he'd been smiling when he left the suite. Asher's behavior only left Willow with one question: what feeds off of a vampire? 

As she picked apart a danish full of what looked like blackberries, Willow decided she didn't want to know.


	5. Chapter 5

Willow woke up when she smelled roses. They were thick and warm in the air around her; she felt suffocated, like she couldn't catch her breath underneath the oppressive perfume. She gasped and panted and looked around. It was dark except for the flickering light coming from a few large candles. Asher hadn't gone to such theatrics on her first few nights in his suite; it seemed unlikely that he would surprise her with a romantic gesture as he'd been so careful to make sure she was comfortable with everything they did together. 

In case Asher was lurking in the shadows, Willow made sure to keep her facial expression schooled into a pleasant one. She didn't _despise_ roses, but they definitely weren't her favourite flowers. Lilacs were her favourite, both because of their scent and their colouring; she always found roses to be a little too obvious. If Asher were trying to do something nice for her, though, she didn't want to hurt his feelings by seeming unappreciative, so she made sure to keep her nose from wrinkling against the strong floral scent. 

And, apart from her own personal preferences, it had been a long time since someone brought her flowers of any kind. She wasn't sure if she wanted to deepen her relationship with Asher, but she liked that he wanted to treat her to a frivolous gift. 

She rolled over in Asher's bed, expecting to see him somewhere within the bedroom. All she saw was the furniture the way it had been when she fell asleep. There were no flowers in sight. 

Willow frowned and sat up. "Asher?" she said into the dimly lit room. "Are you up?" 

No one responded. 

After a few minutes of looking around, Willow zeroed in on a dark shadow in the corner by the privacy screen. It was deeper than the other shadows in the room. Willow tilted her head and studied it. Just as she was about to dismiss it as a trick of the light, the shadow moved away and revealed a pale woman leaning into the corner. She was wearing a pale, gauzy dress that shimmered in the candlelight and contrasted with the rich darkness of her long, wavy hair. She looked beautiful; she felt like a threat. 

"Who are you?" Willow asked. 

"Those who know me call me _Belle Morte,"_ she purred in a heavily-accented voice as she walked towards Willow. "I sensed anger and frustration in their peasant woman when she was feeding _l'ardeur_ , and I had to see what was happening to the newest _sourdre de sang_ 's one-woman empire." 

Belle Morte smoothed one of her slender hands over her hair. Flashing her fangs---and revealing that she was another vampire---as she smiled, she looked down at Willow. "A plain mortal. Not even a necromancer, like the other one. My, my, I thought I trained my boys to have better taste," she said as she studied Willow. She took a few steps towards the bed. "A shame. All those years I allowed them to share in my presence... they didn't learn anything, did they?" 

"What do you want from me?" 

"I want to learn about you, little one," she replied. "I want to learn all of your secrets." 

Shivering, Willow eased back from the edge of the bed. She kept her eyes on Belle Morte's waist; she felt that was safer than trying to make eye contact with her. 

"What did you do to Asher?" Willow asked. 

Belle Morte laughed. "Well, he clearly doesn't like you for your mind," she purred. 

"Asher!" Willow shouted. "Asher?!" 

"Silly girl. He can't hear you here, inside your head." 

Willow startled. She started to look up, remembered herself, and dropped her gaze again. "I'm dreaming?" she asked. "Are you in the room with me? What---wait. Asher _likes_ me?" 

"Oh yes," Belle Morte purred. "When they were together feeding her hunger, I saw a glimpse of his thoughts and feelings. She might not like another filly in her well-stocked stable, but he is thrilled at the possibility of having someone all to himself." 

Willow frowned. She didn't know who the 'she' was in Belle Morte's response and she didn't know why Asher would choose Willow when she'd been nothing but a burden to him so far. She also didn't know why she was dreaming of this new vampire. 

Her mind told her Belle Morte was a hallucination and couldn't possibly be real---something her mind conjured to scare her away from Asher and St. Louis. Her heart told her Belle Morte was real---a real vampire and a very real threat---and she needed to wake up before anything worse than a little conversation could occur. 

Belle Morte seemed to be finished studying her. She smirked and closed her eyes. When she reopened them, she whispered, "I smell strawberries." 

"Strawberries?" Willow repeated. She frowned. "All I smell are roses." 

A tall man materialized next to Belle Morte as if he were a ghost, never becoming completely opaque. Willow gaped at him, recognising him instantly. She whimpered when he raised his hands to show the red-toned energy sparking between his palms. 

Rack smiled crookedly, his shoulder-length hair falling into his eyes as he tilted his head to one side. 

"Hey, Strawberry," he said. "Want a taste?" 

Willow didn't realise she'd moved until she felt the bed's headboard pressing into her back. She swallowed past a lump in her throat and shook her head. 

"Does Asher know how dark your tastes run? Is this why he picked you?" Belle Morte inquired. She circled the bed and leaned towards the redhead. "A witch. How delicious! The last time I had one of those under my control, we took over a whole country..." she trailed off and sighed as a wistful smile curved her lips. "We seduced the king and queen and made fools of their children... it was delicious." 

"Go away," Willow insisted. "Both of you. Please." 

Belle Morte waved her hand and the illusion of Rack faded away. 

"Why does he bother you? When you embraced your power and stole his, you were one of the most powerful witches in the world," Belle Morte said. She grimaced. "Now, look at you. You've become rather weak, Strawberry." 

"Don't call me that," Willow hissed. 

"Should we call you a goddess, instead?" Belle Morte asked as another ghostly figure appeared at her side. 

Kennedy and Belle Morte almost looked like a couple as they stood together; when Tara faded into existence between them, Willow didn't know what to think. She watched the three figures settle into an embrace, their arms and bodies repositioning to accommodating closeness. 

Willow wiped at her cheeks as tears spilled from her eyes. Tara would always be a bruise in her heart. 

"That's what she is," Kennedy purred. "Just like this one," she added before pressing her lips to Tara's shoulder. 

Belle Morte laughed. "Oh, a lover of women. I'm sure Asher will be disappointed that you have no interest in the male form." 

"I don't know about that." 

Kennedy and Tara disappeared as Oz appeared. She hadn't seen him in years, but she was sure he didn't still have his spiked, blue hair. 

"She liked me enough," Oz said. "Hey, Will." 

Belle Morte grinned, not bothering to hide her fangs at all. "How lovely. What else can I learn about you, Strawberry? What other secrets lurk behind those eyes?" she asked. She tipped her head up to the ceiling, as if she were listening to other voices, other ghosts from Willow's past. "You gave the slayers their powers... you unleashed what the Shadowmen sought to control. Such deep magic for such a slip of a girl." 

She put her hand on the top of Willow's head, much to Willow's disgust and fear. "I should give you some power, witch, and see what you would do with it." 

"No!" Willow hollered.

&&&

"No! Get away from me! All of you!"

She felt cool hands on her face and shoulder and she continued to thrash. She needed to get away from Belle Morte; she needed to wake up and get a hold of her control before she did something bad. 

_"Mon colibri,_ Willow, please... wake up," Asher said. "Please. It is nothing but a _bête noir_ [nightmare]." 

Willow listened to the voice---Asher had a wonderful calming voice when he directed it at her---and opened her eyes. He was there, touching her, and he was solid. She took in long gulps of air, trying to process her dream, and ended up bursting into tears. 

Not hesitating, Asher pulled her into his arms. "You were dreaming, you are safe," he murmured, over and over until she quieted and calmed. 

"The smell of roses... god, it was so strong and she kept bringing them all up to haunt me, and---" she shuddered and tucked her face into Asher's shoulder. "I thought it was real. I was so scared." 

"Roses?" Asher asked. 

Willow nodded. His hair was a smooth surface against her cheek. His hand cupped the back of her head; it was large enough to do so, but gentle enough to provide comfort. 

"What was in your dream?" he asked. 

"There was a vampire... she... made me see people from my past," Willow whispered. "She talked with them, I guess? But, she put her hand on my head and _read_ me. She knew what I did. She---" 

"She's a dream, just a dream," Asher whispered. 

"She said stuff about you... about the thing you were feeding, how it---or she---wasn't happy about something? The vampire assumed it was me, said she was curious, and she just started pulling stuff out of my head---" 

Willow stopped talking when Asher's body stilled. She didn't know who or what Belle Morte was, but Willow's words were important to Asher. When he guided her head out of his body, he was so focused on Willow that he didn't notice his entire face was exposed to her. She saw his scars; she also saw his intense, icy eyes, and those captured her attention more than anything else. 

"Did she give you her name?" Asher asked. 

Nodding, Willow whispered, "Belle Morte." 

"You saw Belle Morte?" he asked. "What did she say to you? Willow, it is important. Exact words, please, if possible." 

"She... said something about a woman being angry when she was feeding that ardor thing. Something about the... I'm assuming she was referring to the Master of the City, but she called them something that started with an 's.' Anyway. It was something about their one-woman empire. Here. Not there," Willow said. "And... I don't know if I should tell you---" 

"Did she impugn my character?" 

"Your taste in women," Willow replied. "Yours and... her other... boy's?" 

Asher smiled a little. "There is nothing wrong with our tastes. She will never approve of what she cannot understand," he said. "What else, _mon colibri?"_

"She was excited to discover I'm a witch," Willow said. She frowned. She didn't want to tell Asher about Belle Morte's enjoyment of Willow's dark past. "She said something about taking control of a country? Seducing the king and queen... making fools of their children? Seemed like good memories to her." 

She was relieved when Asher frowned because the expression suggested he did not approve of her actions---but she was also unnerved because he seemed to know something of what she spoke. She couldn't bring herself to ask him if he'd been there or when it had happened. She didn't want to know the details. 

She shifted and looked away from Asher. "She, ah, said something about a filly in someone's well-stocked stable? I didn't get it." 

"Anything else?" 

"Nothing... dangerous, or nothing I didn't understand," Willow replied. 

Asher's bare hand slipped under Willow's chin. He tipped her head towards his; he'd covered his face again and she could no longer see the scars. She regretted not trying harder to push her fear out of the way; she regretted not taking the time to really _see_ Asher. For a moment, she thought about pushing back his hair and risking his discomfort. The possibility that she could push Asher away kept her from acting on impulse. 

"I apologise for her presence in your dream," Asher said. "We had an encounter with her last night. She was not here, physically. She... has the ability to visit... she... well. Vampires of her line can possess something we call the _ardeur_. It is a magical hunger. It can turn vampires into succubi and incubi. It feeds on---" 

"Lust." 

Asher nodded. _"Oui,"_ he said. "The Master of the City carries it, as does his human servant. A select few act as food for this hunger. And through this power, Belle Morte can sometimes visit other places and people. We were able to chase her off with love and strength. I do not know why she chose to visit us this time." 

"She said it was me. I made someone female mad?" Willow whispered. 

With another nod, Asher sighed. "I truly apologise," he said. "I meant to provide shelter for you, and I added to your anxieties instead." 

"It's not your fault," Willow said. 

"It is," Asher insisted. "If I hadn't been enjoying our time together---" 

He stopped talking as she smiled. His one visible eye widened and his whole body went very, very still. He didn't relax until after Willow finished speaking. 

"I'm enjoying it, too," she murmured. "Just... I don't want to run into her again." 

"I will do my best to ensure that you remain free of her," he said. "In the meantime, is there anything I can do to help you recover?" 

"I... no, I'll... maybe I can... could I use your tub?" 

Asher smiled. _"Absolument,"_ he replied. "Sit here and rest, I will draw your bath." 

"Really?" 

He nodded. 

Willow narrowed her eyes. "What's the catch? You're a big bad master vampire, and you've been... nice." 

"Is there a law that states I must be evil?" Asher asked. He moved his hand from Willow's chin to the side of her face so he could tuck her loose hair behind her ear. She tried not to move, but turning into his touch was too tempting; she missed contact with people, and any time Asher offered it to her she found her body turning towards him. His fingers travelled to her shoulder for a brief squeeze before pulling away. "It is true that I have a small amount of power and I have duties and responsibilities that do not permit me kindness, but those are not all I am." 

"Sorry. I just... I'm used to vamps goin' all 'grr,'" she said, making a face that was meant to look fierce. 

Asher smirked, turning into his hair a little. "But, of course," he replied. His smirk faded into a gentler expression. "Sit and rest, _mon colibri_. I will run your bath. While you unwind and soak, will you be all right if I report to my master?" 

"The, ah, Master of the City?" Willow asked. 

He nodded. "He will need to be told of this development... and you should have met him by now, anyway. Especially if you decide you would like to remain here while you recover your strength and regain your bearings." 

As frightening as the idea of meeting the Master of the City was, Willow hoped she could stay in St. Louis---if she couldn't stay in this safe place. She liked the energy coming from the stone walls of whatever building made up the residence for the local vampires and their guests; it scared her and soothed her at the same time. She hadn't seen much of it yet---Asher was still insistent that she go nowhere by herself, either because she couldn't yet be trusted or because he felt she needed protection---but the places he'd taken her in the last couple of nights soothed her frayed nerves and the tattered pieces of her soul and shields. With Asher as a cool and steady support to navigate her through that energy, she was feeling much better than she had in a long time. 

St. Louis didn't feel like Milwaukee or Minneapolis. The Master of the City didn't pounce on her and try to force her to stay; the city's energy felt _healthier_ and gave her hope that she could find her strength and stability again. 

If the Master of the City decided to exploit her gifts... 

"Do not be afraid," Asher said, shaking her from her thoughts. "He will not hurt you." 

Willow nodded, smiling a little back at Asher as he smiled at her. After a gentle pat to her knee he extricated himself from the bed and their close quarters; she followed him with her eyes as he moved to the bathroom and as soon as he disappeared from sight she reached for her robe. 

She had a master vampire running a bath---for her, and only her. Not for the first time since she decided to stay with Asher until she met the Master of the City, Willow wondered if she were imagining everything. It was hard enough to believe that she found a place she could rest; it was even harder to believe that the healing place came with a _vampire_ who wanted to take care of her. 

Sure, Angel had wanted to take care of Buffy, in his own way, with cryptic warnings and back-up in fights, but... she wasn't Buffy. And Asher definitely wasn't Angel. 

Asher smiled easily. He hid, and maybe he brooded a little, but he smiled. Willow had even heard him laugh---and she didn't think she'd ever heard Angel laugh. He dressed in colours---glorious shades of gold and red---instead of the usual bad or brooding black. He had a job. He was part of a group---no, a kiss. Through Asher and the little information he would (or could) give her, she was learning more about vampires and vampire politics than she'd ever known while living in Sunnydale and while helping Giles rebuild the organizational hierarchy for the watchers and slayers. 

It wasn't fair to compare Asher to Angel. She knew she shouldn't, but she also had limited experience with vampires who didn't want to rip out her throat or enslave her. 

At the sound of a small, polite cough, Willow turned from the desk chair where her robe had been draped to the bathroom doorway. Asher was leaning against its frame. 

"A penny for your thoughts?" he asked. 

Willow smiled. "They're not worth that much." 

"I don't know," Asher said. "You were smiling a little and that's a pleasant sight. I might be tempted to pay more to know the thoughts that could make you smile." 

"It's your money," Willow replied. 

He chuckled. "And I will spend it how I like," he decided. He gestured over his shoulder. "Your bath is ready, _mon colibri_." 

"Thank you, Asher," Willow murmured. She set off towards him, slipping her hands into the robe's pockets as she approached. "I appreciate you going to that trouble." 

"It was no trouble," he replied. "I went ahead and added some oil to the water. The scent of... _lilas_. Lilacs? I read that the flowers are associated with wisdom, protection, and spiritual assistance," he said, looking down at his toes for a moment, before returning his gaze to hers. "I believe you could use some of these things now?" 

Willow's smile stretched. "How are you real?" she asked. "Lilacs are my favourite flower." 

_"Vraiment?_ [Really?]" Asher asked. 

She nodded. "Really," she echoed, before stopping in front of him. She reached out and squeezed his closest forearm. "Thank you." 

Asher ducked his head. His right hand covered hers and squeezed her fingers very gently. Part of her wanted to look down, to see the scars Asher tried so hard to hide from her, but the rest of her wanted to soak up the contact and enjoy the brush of Asher's strength against her skin. His power was both icy and hot; she enjoyed the duality of it. She wanted to keep that power near her skin instead of chasing it away with her curiosity. With that in mind, she kept looking into his face and kept a small smile on her face as she did so. 

"Go relax," Asher said, his voice softer than it usually sounded. "Is there anything you'd like me to do while I'm off checking in with my master?" 

"I... no, it's... it's fine. I'm fine." 

"Willow?" 

She felt the tips of her ears turning pink. "Well, Acantha took my clothes to get washed. I only had a couple shirts and my jeans and---" 

"And they haven't come back," Asher finished for her. She nodded and he smiled. "I can find you something while you bathe." He motioned towards the tub with a slight jerk of his head. _"Allez-y_ [Go on]," he said. "I'll wait for you in the outer chamber." 

"Just _my_ clothes would be good," Willow insisted. "Don't go to any trouble." 

"I'll see what I can do," Asher said. 

Willow smiled again, lingering in the doorway as she watched Asher move away from her. She stayed there until he slipped through the bedroom door to the outer room; she backed up into the bathroom and closed the door. 

When she turned around, she felt her heart skip a beat. A few candles were lit and positioned along the tub edge; a stack of fluffy towels were also on the edge of the large tub. Running her fingers along the surface of the barely-coloured and perfectly-heated water brought the scent of lilacs up into the air. 

She didn't know what to make of a master vampire who seemed to enjoy taking care of her, but she decided that she would at least enjoy the special treatment while the strings were still invisible.


	6. Chapter 6

When Willow emerged from the bathroom, wrapped up in her robe and not much else, she found Asher in the outer sitting room. A book was in his hands but it didn't hold his focus; he looked up and smiled at her as soon as she entered the more public space. 

He gestured to the coffee table and to a waiting tray of fruit, yogurt, and coffee. "I had someone bring it by for you," he said. "The Master of the City will meet with us in an hour." 

"Here?" Willow asked. 

Asher shrugged. "Wherever he wishes," he replied. "Most likely in one of the sitting rooms. Neutral territory for a neutral meeting." 

She sat down next to him and reached for the bowl of yogurt. As she sprinkled berries and slices of banana into the bowl, she asked, "Do you think... it will go okay?" 

"Nervous?" Asher asked. 

Willow nodded. She knew lying wouldn't buy her any favours; she knew a vampire could tell the difference between calm and anxious moods. Asher's hand on her knee startled her, a little, even though they'd been getting used to each other and sharing space together, but the weight of his hand helped tether her and prevent her from flying off into a frenzy of worried fantasies. 

"It is foolish to tell you not to be nervous," he said. "My master has concerns---about your allegiances, about your abilities---and he will ask you many questions to ascertain your intentions. He cannot accept my word. He will test you. It would be best if you are aware of that." 

"Not helping..." 

Asher squeezed his hand over her knee. "I know you have no reason to trust me---" 

"Asher, you took me in and helped me when anyone else could have done something... terrible," she interrupted. "I was so bad off, I didn't care or realise or both what sort of trouble I was in. You could have---you still could---but I have a feeling..." 

"A feeling?" Asher echoed. 

Willow smiled a bit. "A feeling. Sure, I'm scared you and the Master of the City are going to lock me up until I agree to raise your power levels, but that's not based on evidence," she said. "So far, all I've got is a vibe that you don't mean me any harm and all of your actions to date---which have been very generous. If you're some sort of world-class liar or secret agent vamp, then, fine, you tricked me, you win, but I don't think you are." 

_"Non?"_

She shook her head. "I met Darla. And Angelus. And... others of their line. I've helped fight against demons and gods looking to end the world---like _really_ end the world. They were evil. You don't have the same flavour. You don't taste harmless, but you're not completely nuts." 

Asher tipped his head back as laughter bubbled up out of his mouth. Willow caught a glimpse of his scars; she committed the seam between perfection and ruin to memory. She knew she couldn't ask---at least not until she knew Asher for longer than a few days---but her mind couldn't leave the mystery of Asher alone. 

"And how do I taste, _mon colibri?"_

Feeling her face heating at Asher's teasing tone of voice, Willow forced herself to meet his eyes. "To my tongue? I haven't had the pleasure yet," she replied. She felt like grinning when Asher's eyebrow twitched, even though she was willing to bet that he could out-flirt and out-innuendo her any day of the year. "But to my broke-down magic? You taste like... honey and spice." 

"And everything nice?" Asher asked. 

After a little shake of her head, she said, "Nah. Your spice has bite." 

Asher didn't react at first. He was still smiling a little, but he wasn't replying or gesturing; his stillness started to worry Willow. When he caught her gaze on one of her visual treks around the sitting space, he tipped his head ever-so-slightly to the right; when she was paying attention, concern for her well-being making her gut tighten, he opened his mouth wide and pressed the tip of his tongue to the back of his upper left fang before he took a bite out of the air. 

"Perhaps it is the other way around, _mon colibri,"_ Asher said. 

Relief and humour crashed into Willow's thoughts at roughly the same time. She giggled, giddy from the relief and tickled by the joke. She'd spent so much time moping and worrying and beating herself up that Asher's sense of play felt like fluff and sunshine to her weary heart. 

"Maybe you're right," Willow murmured. She laughed until she couldn't anymore, and when she finally wiped her eyes with her free hand she smiled up at him. "I had no idea you're a comedian, too. What other secrets are you keeping from me?" 

Asher chuckled and shook his head. "I am not that interesting," he insisted. 

Willow doubted that, but she let go of the issue in favour of keeping the mood between them pleasant. 

They settled into their early evening routine---Willow eating her meal and wondering what the night would hold for her, Asher reading his book and remaining a steady (and mysterious) presence at her side---and an easy calm appeared to have settled over the sitting room. Willow had questions; she kept them to herself. Whatever Asher was thinking, as he continued to read, was safely tucked away in Asher's mind, too. 

Every time she lifted her eyes and looked at Asher, he would glance at her over the edge of his book. She knew she wasn't imagining the amusement in his eyes after the third time he caught her studying him; she would have laughed, but she could've sworn there was a challenge in his eyes and she didn't want to give in so easily. 

She barely knew Asher. And yet, his gaze was both welcome and demanding, while his touch was both soothing and exciting. The little they'd talked, usually when he was taking her to the library or above ground to explore a little of the city, told Willow that Asher was intelligent and that he had a sense of humour she could appreciate. His interactions with others, wherever they were, suggested he was powerful and commanded respect---but not necessarily because of the power he possessed. No matter what respect he held, he was still shy, in a way, always hiding his face behind his hair and his body behind layers of clothing, and Willow didn't understand that. From what she could see of him, he was beautiful. 

He was a puzzle and she wanted to solve him. She wanted to get to know him. She wanted to consider him a friend. 

Willow wasn't an idiot. She knew she might be at an emotional disadvantage because he saved her and nursed her back to health; she knew she might be transferring her loneliness into a desperation for companionship. She also knew it was foolish to consider Asher a friend until she met the Master of the City and understood their collective motivations for allowing her to stay in their underground home. 

But, she missed having friends and Asher was doing so many good things that were accelerating his role in her heart from acquaintance and saviour to friend, no matter what her mind kept telling her. 

A knock at the door startled her from her thoughts, so much so that she jumped and gasped. The nearly-empty bowl slipped from her hands and only Asher's quick reflexes kept it from falling to the floor. 

"It is not my master," he said. He smiled at her, put the bowl on the tray, and turned his head towards the door. _"Entrez,"_ he called out, beckoning their visitor into the suite. 

The door opened; Jason slipped inside the room. Willow relaxed, earning a grin from Jason and a chuckle from Asher. 

"Hey, Asher. Willow," Jason said. He held up a shopping bag. "Asher said you might want some stuff to wear, so I brought you a few things." 

"Nothing from Guilty Pleasures, I hope," Asher said, his voice quiet but dry. 

Jason's grin stretched. "The leather straps were a big hit last night," he said. He put the bag down on the coffee table in front of Willow, next to the tray of dishes and scraps of food. "You both missed a great show." 

As Jason smoothed his hands down his body and wriggled his hips from side to side, Asher sighed. _"Ça suffit_ [That's enough], Jason," Asher said. 

"But, Daaaaaad." 

Asher snorted. "I thought Jean-Claude would be your Daddy," he teased. "Should I tell him he's been replaced?" 

"I could have two dads," Jason teased. 

Willow laughed softly as Asher let loose another snort. She liked Jason. His attitude was refreshing. He flirted as easily as he breathed, making their interactions fun, but she could also sense strength and heart in him. He didn't remind her of Oz, even though they were both werewolves; he, like the other shapeshifters she'd encountered in St. Louis, seemed to have less conflict between man and beast and acted as one being instead of one divided. Jason was at ease---with his situation, with his life---and it showed in everything from his relaxed posture to his sparkling eyes. 

"So, uh, there are some yoga pants and a skirt, some t-shirts and stuff... and I threw a pair of my older leather pants in there, too, just in case you wanna dress up," Jason said to her. "Your stuff is in the laundry. We'll get it to you as soon as it's clean, I'm sure, but... in the meantime, hopefully this stuff will fit." 

"Thank you," Willow murmured. 

"And if you wanna borrow any of my racier attire, just ask," he said. "I'll bring my tickle trunk over." 

"Jason..." Asher said, his warning losing some of its effect when Willow laughed again 

"I'll keep it in mind," Willow said. 

Jason nodded. With another grin, he gave them both a sloppy salute before turning on his heel and strutting back to the door. 

As soon as Willow and Asher were alone, Willow laughed a little more. "I like him," she said, leaning back against the sofa. "He seems like a good guy." 

"He is." 

"Does he live here, too?" Willow asked. 

_"Oui,"_ Asher replied. "He is a cherished _pomme de sang_." Before Willow could even open her mouth to begin to ask what that term meant, Asher started speaking again. "That is the term, among vampires, for a regular meal. There is something of a bond between the vampire and meal---" 

"That makes sense," Willow said. "I mean, if the vampire's high enough up on the food chain, I guess they wouldn't have a problem finding food? But it's a status symbol? And... a safety net. With benefits, I guess?" 

Asher bowed his head in a slow nod. _"Exactement,"_ he said. "At first, Jason was given by the leader of his pack, as a favour, but I believe he's come to enjoy his position. The vampire who feeds from him... he can make feeding very pleasurable, through the power in his bite." 

Willow remembered hearing about vampire powers when they became legal citizens. She knew some vampires had powers rooted in sex and pleasure; she'd never encountered any of them before, and the idea that some were nearby had her already-curious mind spinning into overdrive as more questions presented themselves to her, begging to be asked. 

"I... neat," she mumbled. After a deep breath, she looked into Asher's eyes and asked, "Is that... can your bite do that, too?" 

"Well... _non,_ not exactly," Asher said. He held her gaze. "My initial bite is quite painful. I cannot roll a person into feeling pleasure at that point, but once I begin to drink their blood, I am able to roll my power into their body and it can become enjoyable." 

"Cool. And... do you have a... a _pomme de sang?"_ she asked. 

He shook his head. "I am not worthy of such a gift," he replied. "But, I have willing donors. I will not starve." 

Asher looked away from her, down at the book still in his hands. Willow itched to touch him, to tell him she didn't understand why he wasn't worthy of having a regular meal. Something in his tone, though, made her back off and leave the subject for another time. She filed it away with all of her other questions and looked at the bag of clothes. 

"Well," she murmured, "I guess I should get dressed, then." 

He turned back to her. "I will wait here," he said. "I will escort you to my master, if you are amenable to that." 

"Definitely," she said. She smiled and shrugged. "I might be a little brave, but I'm not brave enough to face the Master of the City completely alone." 

"And you believe I am a suitable escort?" Asher asked. 

Willow stood up and threaded her hand through the bag's loops. "Yep. Gut instinct." 

Asher's chuckle followed her all the way to the bedroom.


	7. Chapter 7

Asher walked with Willow, his hand on her lower back. He guided her through the stone corridors and stopped outside a doorway that was covered in heavy velvet curtains. When Willow hesitated, Asher didn't force her through the fabric to meet her fate. Instead, he waited with her; he moved his hand from her waist to her shoulder and squeezed gently. 

"He wishes to have a conversation," Asher murmured. "There will be no battle." 

"Am I dressed all right, or maybe I should've worn the skirt instead of the pants---" 

"Shhh, _mon colibri,"_ Asher interrupted. 

"What if---" 

"It will be fine. You look... wonderful," he said. "The leather pants suit you. My master will appreciate the way they make your legs look, I'm sure, but that will be secondary. He will first and foremost appreciate your intelligence and honesty. He will not hate you on sight. And I know all this because we have similar tastes in many things." 

Willow brought her hands up to her flushed cheeks. "I... thanks?" she whispered. 

Asher smiled. "You are welcome," he said, his voice quiet. "Now, shall we?" 

When Willow nodded and lowered her hands, Asher drew back one of the curtains and gestured for her to enter ahead of him. 

She saw Jason first. He was lounging on the floor, legs stretched out as he leaned his head against someone's knee. Her eyes travelled along that knee, thigh, and body until she found herself staring into a pair of emerald-green eyes framed by pale skin and hair that was much redder than her own. 

She wasn't sure, but something about the scene didn't sit right with her. Asher was a solid metaphysical weight at her side and the vampire in front of her felt _less_ than Asher did. She looked from the redhead, to Jason, to Asher, and tried to figure out why her magical senses felt the way they did. 

A new weight, a new sort of change in the air, was moving towards them. It was like Asher's presence, but _so much more_ , and Willow turned her head back towards the velvet curtains. As they moved, she turned her body and backed up into Asher. 

The vampire that came into the room was as dark as Asher was bright. His full-black hair fell in loose waves that suggested more styling than none at all, much like Asher's golden curls did, and he wore clothes that suggested a blend between seventeenth century style and trends in a modern dance club, again, much like Asher dressed. But, Asher's palette was made up of golds and crimsons with hints of blues and greens and the newcomer had chosen blacks and whites with splashes of bright red and blue. When they were standing near each other Willow thought Asher could play Day, if the other vampire played Night. 

Werewolves---they had to be, they had the same feeling that Jason gave off, of forest and wildness, when Willow expanded her magical senses to include them---walked in behind the dark vampire. 

Willow looked from the vampire with Jason to the newcomer. If the redhead was the Master of the City, then he was either an expert at shielding or unworthy of the position. He didn't have the unseen force behind his presence; he was striking, and Willow hoped he was a decent person underneath the fangs and pale skin, but he couldn't have won the leadership of St. Louis' kiss through brute force or power. The vampire next to Asher had the feeling of danger wrapped in silk and lace. She knew he had power; she knew he would not willingly submit himself to someone much weaker than he was. 

Everyone was watching her. They looked stiff, poised to react. She was beginning to wonder if she were in the middle of some sort of test---either of her abilities or her sense of diplomacy. 

It had been a long time since she'd reached out to anyone with her magic, but she needed to know what the right step to take would be. With Asher's presence nearby, she felt more grounded than she had felt since leaving California. She felt like she could do what needed to be done. 

_"Do I greet the real master or the fake one?"_ she asked. _"Because I'm leaning towards greeting the real one, but I don't want to insult the other guy, either, and risk some sort of faux-pas."_

Asher tensed. His hand twitched against her back. Apart from those two slight tells, he didn't react to her words whispering in his mind. 

_"Just think really hard at me. I can't... it's not like reading minds. More like throwing thoughts and catching thoughts thrown back at me."_

His hand relaxed against her spine. 

_"He wants you to greet him,"_ Asher said, silently. _"The one you label as fake will not take offense."_

Willow nodded. She closed her eyes and inhaled slowly, finding her balance again. When she felt adequately centered, she smiled at the black-haired vampire and took a step forward. 

"I don't know if there are any fancy words I need to say, but... I, um, thank you for letting me recover some of my strength, Mister... Master?" Willow said, extending her hand to the vampire with the power. "Mister Master. That can't be right," she added, grimacing. 

Asher chuckled. The darker vampire smiled at her. 

"You may call me Jean-Claude," he said, taking her hand in one of his. He didn't shake it or try to kiss her knuckles; instead, he turned her hand over so the underside of her wrist was exposed to his mouth. Keeping his eyes in hers, he lowered his head and pressed his lips over the veins close to the surface of her skin. "Asher told me your name is Willow?" 

"Oh! I... yes. I'm Willow. Rosenberg," she said. 

She could feel the strength of Jean-Claude's power through her locked shields, but he didn't try to roll it over her. She wondered why he refrained from testing her further; she wondered if the test would come later when she wasn't expecting it. 

"It is a pleasure to meet you," Jean-Claude murmured. "Welcome to St. Louis. And to my home." 

"Thank you," Willow breathed. She gave herself a little shake and forced herself to look away from his dark blue eyes for a moment. When she made eye contact again, she said, "I really appreciate you allowing me to stay here. With those under your protection." 

"Do you need protection, _ma chérie?"_ Jean-Claude asked. "Is that why my second found you outside of one my clubs? My identity is public knowledge. It would be easy to---" 

"N-no," Willow interrupted. "I didn't really... I mean, I knew vamps were citizens, but the new Watchers' Council had me pretty busy and I was travelling with one of the slayers and I didn't keep up with all the... excitement. I didn't know you were here. Or that you're the Master of St. Louis." 

"How did you come to be there, that night?" Jean-Claude asked. 

Willow frowned and looked down at her hands. "I ran away from my friends and my job. My home." 

Asher's hand rubbed along Willow's spine. She took comfort from that gesture and continued with her story. 

"Things happened. And we weren't a healthy group, headspace-wise. So I... I ran. It got to a point where I couldn't take it anymore, so I chickened out and I ran. I got to Canada, thinking that if the laws were less strict there, maybe I could be okay," she said. "But everything was still hidden. And, truthfully, I was pretty scared. In bad shape. Someone suggested I move back to the States and find a city that had a strong preternatural community. St. Louis was on the list, sure, but he also suggested Chicago and a couple other cities." 

Jean-Claude nodded. "Did any of the other cities suit you?" 

Willow shook her head. "Milwaukee was awful. The others weren't great, but they weren't as bad as..." she trailed off and gestured a little with her hands, not sure what words she should string together next. "I didn't mean to stop outside of Guilty Pleasures, but I crashed into someone---or they crashed into me---and I was so dizzy, she set me down in the alley to try to help me recover without getting trampled." 

"I do not know much about witchcraft, but you should have been able to let down your shields and feed off of the energy, _non?"_ Jean-Claude asked. 

Willow shrugged. She looked at Asher, who seemed to be waiting for her answer, too. "I was locked down tight and too weak, really, for anything, when you found me," she mumbled. "I... being here's been great. I haven't opened up again, but even just the residual vibes in the air have helped." She looked back at Jean-Claude. "If you want me to leave, I can, I just---" 

As soon as Jean-Claude raised his hand, Willow stopped talking. He smirked, looking from her to Asher, and then his gaze drifted to the others in the room. 

"Damian, Jason, thank you for your services," Jean-Claude said. "I believe, now that the jig is up, so to speak, you may continue with your plans for the evening." 

Jason stood up first, stretching his body and arms once he was upright. He rubbed his stomach as he approached them. 

"Do you want to eat later?" Jason asked. 

"I would like a taste after you've returned from work," Jean-Claude replied. "I will call for you, _d'accord?"_

After a nod to Jean-Claude, Jason reached out and squeezed Willow's shoulder. "Nice pants," he said with a teasing wink. 

Willow chuckled and touched his hand. "Thanks," she said. 

Damian, the red-haired vampire, was next to walk past them. He and Willow exchanged brief pleasantries, but Willow wasn't sure what to make of him; he seemed cool and aloof, though he wasn't mean, and she wondered if he had a warmer interior or if he was frosty to everyone. She hoped she'd be able to stay long enough to get to know him a bit better. 

Once they were alone, except for the black-clad werewolves who were giving off a serious security vibe, Jean-Claude motioned Willow and Asher over to the sofa and chairs. Jean-Claude sat at one end of the sofa; he beckoned Asher to his side and they found a comfortable position together. 

Willow meant to choose a seat for herself, but she saw the two of them, watching her, and she got lost in the beauty of the scene they made. Up until that evening, she thought only women could be so gorgeous. Asher on his own was a wonderful sight, sure, but she'd seen Asher as a source of comfort and strength more than anything else; paired with Jean-Claude, Asher's aesthetic qualities became stronger and the two of them together were more stunning than any piece of art Willow had ever seen. 

Jean-Claude and Asher were _beautiful_ and masculine and everything she never knew men could be. Her inner voice scolded her thoughts; she hated when she made assumptions, especially when those assumptions pertained to genders and orientations, but she was glad for the correction. 

_"Mon colibri?"_ Asher asked. He pushed a cushioned footstool towards her, as if he knew she didn't want to sit too close or too far away from him. When she eased down onto it, he asked, "Is Jean-Claude's beauty too much?" 

"Or is it the beauty of _mon chardonneret_ [my goldfinch]?" Jean-Claude inquired. 

As they shared a look, excluding her but revealing more to her than they probably expected, she swallowed against a sudden lump in her throat---the one that came as soon as she realised they were more to each other than master and trusted second---and shook her head. 

"No, it's... both of you... how... how does anyone get any work done around you two?" she demanded. 

Willow realised what she said and slapped a hand over her mouth. 

Jean-Claude chuckled and the sound seemed to tickle over her exposed skin. _"Mon chardonneret,_ I like her." 

"Because she suffers from delusions?" Asher asked. 

Willow reached out and touched his knee. He looked at her. 

"You hide too much, sure, but I can see how beautiful you are," she murmured. 

"Were," Asher said, correcting her. 

Willow shook her head. She stretched with her free hand and brushed her fingers against his hair. He flinched; she pursued him. He protested. She didn't respond with words; she hoped a liberal application of her 'resolve face' would silence him and she internally rejoiced when it did. As she pushed the curtain of brilliant hair back from his face, Asher closed his eyes and allowed her to see what he had been hiding from her. 

She'd known the scars would be bad---she'd seen glimpses of them, after all---but she couldn't fathom how extensive his injuries were. They scored the cheek on his hidden half of his face, teasing his mouth before dribbling down his neck and into the high collar of his shirt. She assumed they were over his body, too, because he remained nearly completely covered and hidden around her, but she had no way of knowing for sure. 

Her heart ached. She didn't know what to do to show him that she didn't find him grotesque. 

_"Mon colibri---"_

"Shhh," she whispered. 

Gently, she put her fingers against his cheek and traced the ridge between ruined and smooth. 

"I do not need your pity---" 

Willow interrupted him. "Good, because you're not getting it," she said. "You have two feet and... well, I was gonna say a heartbeat, but I don't know enough about vampire physiology to say that with confidence." When he opened his eyes and looked at her, she made sure she was smiling. "You have Jean-Claude, a home, a decent-sized chunk of power from what I can feel with my shields up, and willing food. You are smart and kind---to me, anyway---and you are beautiful. Stunning. You don't get any pity!" 

"Hrmm. Sounds like something I have said to you," Jean-Claude murmured. 

_"Tais-toi_ [Shut up]," Asher muttered. 

After sharing a smile with Jean-Claude, Willow looked at Asher again. "What? You thought I'd run screaming?" she asked. When Asher didn't respond, she tapped his nose. "You are not as smart as you think you are, Goldilocks." 

"You plan to insult me?" Asher asked. 

She shook her head. "No, but I do plan on preventing you from hiding---at least from me," she replied. 

_"Mais_ [But]---" 

"No buts," she said. "Subject's closed." 

_"Bon_ [Good]," Jean-Claude said. "Shall we move on to other subjects?" 

"Like?" Willow asked. 

"Like how long you intend to stay in St. Louis, perhaps," Jean-Claude replied. "Or, your intentions while you remain under my roof." 

"Or the fact that Belle Morte has visited you in your dreams," Asher added. 

Jean-Claude sighed. "Or that," he agreed. 

Willow curled her legs up onto the footstool with her, finding a more comfortable position to last through their conversation. 

"How long I'm allowed to stay---or where I'm welcome to remain---should probably wait until we've talked about everything else," she said. "I mean, in my head that makes the most sense." 

"In mine as well, _ma chérie,"_ Jean-Claude agreed. He settled his hands over his abdomen with his fingers laced together. "So. You are friends with slayers." 

"Only a couple," Willow insisted. "Buffy came to Sunnydale when we were in high school. And then there were some others, because Buffy died a little. But, Buffy... yeah. Helping her was how I got into witchcraft." 

He tilted his head, studying her. Not knowing what he could see---or feel---made Willow feel more nervous than she had been before entering the room. When he smiled, she wanted to relax but her concern about his thoughts kept her on edge. 

"I suspect you would have found your way into magic eventually," he said. "Natural ability rarely stays dormant. Something would have happened---if it hadn't already before you encountered a slayer. Is it your religion, too?" 

Surprised by his next question, Willow paused and looked from him to Asher. Religion was a sensitive topic with a lot of different preternatural groups. At first, the topic didn't mean much to her. She didn't agree with the Church of Eternal Life, but she could hardly stop its growth when vampires and the government could not. Zombie raising was always a tough subject with any denomination, but there were a few religious groups who accepted the ability as something natural, something the animators did not seek for themselves; witchcraft was viewed similarly, except that there were a few religions that incorporated magic, too. None of those groups really appealed to Willow, who tried to keep herself neutral despite her Jewish roots. 

The closest she'd come to religious influence on her magic was during her stay with the coven Giles had recommended. She hadn't been in a position to refuse assistance---the magical energy she'd absorbed from Rack had given a boost to her own power and she'd been dangerously unstable---but she'd learned some of the coven was sympathetic to the Followers of the Way. She'd heard them talking and recruiting; she knew a full conversion was on the horizon. Back then, she hadn't wanted to leave, but she knew that it was for the best that she'd left the coven behind. 

"Ah... no. Not really," Willow replied. "I was raised Jewish. I adopted some Wiccan leanings, more because I need the focus than the spiritual guidance, but I'm pretty non-denominational." 

"You are not a... Follower of the Way, then." 

Willow shook her head. "No. I'm not a... a... zealot. No." 

She'd started to apologise for her words, but Asher's smirk and Jean-Claude's smile eased her guilt for saying something so accusatory. They conversed quickly, quietly, in French, and Willow only picked out a cute pet name and a word for agreeing before they finished talking; she wondered if they'd had problems with a Brother or Sister, someone standing opposed to their continued existence or the sort of power they could command. 

Asher nodded. Jean-Claude's smile stretched a bit wider. 

"How did you survive Sunnydale, _ma chérie?"_ Jean-Claude asked. 

"I almost didn't," Willow replied. 

"Were you there when the town was destroyed?" 

She nodded. "We barely escaped. Like... we were on a bus, watching the ground behind us fall away as we drove out of town," she said, deciding to go with as much truth as she could. "But, in our defense, we didn't know the amulet would do that. We were just told it'd help against the First's army." 

Asher's eyes widened and his eyebrows lifted. Jean-Claude didn't react much, except that _something behind_ his eyes focused in on her a little more. 

"You faced the First?" Asher asked. 

"What did you think happened to Sunnydale?" Willow asked in reply. "That was more than _just_ Hellmouth power." 

Jean-Claude sighed. "The Council---our Council---told us it was the Hellmouth, but that it was in reaction to their latest attempt to rid the world of the Master's line of vampires." 

"A lot of them escaped," Willow said. "There was a mass exodus a few days before the crater." 

He nodded. "And a lot of them live elsewhere, too," he said. 

"Are there a lot of them?" Willow asked. 

"So you can dispatch slayers? Or because you are curious?" Jean-Claude asked. 

Willow snorted. "I ran away from my slayer friends. From the Watchers. From everyone in my old life," she said. "I won't be keeping in touch with them." 

"Curiosity, then." 

She shrugged. "Yeah, I guess so," she replied. "I never really realised there were different species of vampire. I mean, I knew some vamps use showy magic---like Dracula did---and I knew the Master and Kikistos _looked_ different, but I didn't think---" 

"You met Kikistos?" Asher asked, cutting off the rest of Willow's words. 

Willow frowned. "He came to Sunnydale after one of the other slayers. I didn't tangle with him, but I know about his cloven hooves." 

"The rumours were based on some sort of truth, then," Jean-Claude murmured. "Interesting." 

"Yeah, sure," Willow said, fighting back the sudden urge to laugh. She remembered Buffy's account of Faith's actions; she remembered the haunted look in Buffy's eyes. He hadn't been an apocalypse-worthy opponent, but he'd still been _evil_. Jean-Claude's declaration of interest in the rumours surprised her; it made her feel unsteady in her wish to remain in St. Louis. Trying to keep the conversation---and her thoughts---on track, she added, "But, he's dead. So..." 

Jean-Claude graced her with another smile. "Still. Interesting information to have, _ma chérie,"_ he said. He shrugged, rather gracefully, and then leaned forward. One of his hands landed on Asher's knee, the other pushed some of his wavy hair off of his face. "I admit, I want to ask about the Dracula you encountered, and how the meeting transpired, but I will table that line of questioning for another time," he said. He tilted his head towards Asher again. "What else can you tell me about your choice to leave your friends and family?" 

Willow curled her legs up, wrapped her arms around them, and looked at both vampires. "Didn't Asher tell you everything I told him?" 

"Not everything," Jean-Claude replied. "I asked for enough to feel comfortable allowing you to stay here, but ultimately I decided to wait to hear what you are willing to share with me." 

Whether or not his words were the truth, she appreciated the sentiment behind them. She liked thinking that Asher hadn't gone to Jean-Claude with every single subject they'd discussed. She glanced at Asher, smiled when she saw him smiling, and turned her attention back to Jean-Claude. 

"I... I had to leave," she said. "I... it was hard enough on the slayers when you guys became legal citizens over here. We were back from the head office---Watchers Council stuff---and I was helping with, well, there are still other things---demons, Hellmouths, y'know?---that slayers need to fight. So, I was with Buffy and Xander trying to get some support set up back on the West Coast. After L.A. and the problems there... we didn't know if what Angel and Spike faced would be the end of it, or if there would be more. They'd moved on, so we moved in. Just in case. 

"And then, criminal codes expanded to include witchcraft. And everything... it just changed," she said, frowning as she let her gaze drift from Asher and Jean-Claude. "Not that---I mean, I've screwed up before. Maybe I gave them a reason to act the way I did. But, they looked at me like... like... I was dangerous again, or like I was going to break the new laws? Any time I did a spell---to help them, usually---they acted like I'd done something _awful_. They wanted me to stop. I can't stop. It's not... it's not a hobby, like knitting. It's---" 

"A part of you," Jean-Claude interrupted. 

Willow nodded. "Yeah. I've tried to deny it... even before I screwed up, but... it's there. Whether it was always there or my trying to help Buffy put it there, I don't know, but denying it doesn't make it better." 

"I suspect it makes it worse," Asher said. 

She nodded again. "Usually." 

"And is that why you were so weak when I found you?" Asher asked. 

"Maybe," Willow admitted. "I stopped doing a lot of stuff---because their fear became my fear, y'know? But also... I cut myself from a lot of the good, before I left them. And then, it started leaking out on its own, and I didn't want to get into trouble---" 

"You are safe here," Asher said. 

"Have you crossed paths with Belle Morte before?" Jean-Claude asked. "I understand the new watchers and slayers travel more---" 

"I've never been to France. I'm assuming that's where she is?" 

He shrugged. Willow wasn't sure if that were an answer to her question. After sliding his hand to Asher's arm, he said, "Can you tell me what she said and did in your dream, _ma chérie?"_

"It was like she was sifting through my mind or something. Like she wanted to know what made me tick," Willow replied. "She brought up echoes of people from my life---Tara, Kennedy, Oz... and Rack," she continued, shivering a little. "She knew about things I'd done. Like unleashing the Shadowmen's restraint on the slayer power. And the bad things. She got in my head---my memories." 

Jean-Claude continued to look at her. Under his breath, if vampires breathed, he said, "Interesting..." 

"Yeah, it's fascinating," Willow muttered. "Seeing exes and victims and bad guys and revisiting all my greatest hits---" 

_"Non, ma chérie,_ I mean it is interesting that she was able to visit you in a dream," Jean-Claude said. "To date, she has only visited us through emissaries and through those connected to her, through my power. You are neither, correct?" 

"As far as I know," Willow replied. "I wouldn't... I don't like her very much." 

"No one likes her very much," Jean-Claude said. "But, she is powerful and she can stir desires in even the most resolute of men. Of people." He leaned back in his seat and crossed his legs at his ankles. "You have also met the Shadowmen?" 

Willow shrugged. "Sort of? When Sunnydale was... near the end, I guess, I sort of released the general rule of slayers. I brushed up against their memory, that's about it." 

"You must be a powerful witch," Jean-Claude commented. "Why would you run from that power? Even if your family disapproved, surely---" 

"We all need a place to belong, don't we?" Willow said, cutting off whatever suggestion he'd been about to make because she didn't want to hear it. 

He nodded. Then, he asked, "Who are those people she made you see? Were they the people who made you unintentionally run to us?" 

Willow frowned and shook her head. "No, they weren't. I... do I have to tell you about them?" 

"It might help," Asher said. 

She knew he was right. She also knew she had no one else in her corner and she needed to be honest with the Master of the City in order to stay. She wanted to stay. The power in St. Louis sang to her frayed nerves and made her feel better than any other city's magical strength had done. Asher had been a good friend to her; she wanted to hold onto that friendship and built a life for herself there. Being honest with Jean-Claude was the only way she could achieve her new goals, but she didn't like that she had to reopen so many wounds for them. 

"Oz was my first boyfriend. He's a werewolf. He... he let me be myself. Magic didn't bother him. But we weren't together when I was... when I was scary," she said. "We broke up because of wolf stuff, not because of magic stuff." 

"You had trouble accepting his beast?" Jean-Claude asked. 

She shook her head again. "No, he did. For all his cool, I think that deep down, he hated that side of himself," she replied. "He feared it. Another werewolf came to town and stirred up all the animal wants and needs and... he left before we could recover and figure it all out. He ended up in Tibet. He's trying to learn how to suppress his wolf." 

"But... why?" Asher asked. 

"Sunnydale didn't have a pack, as far as I know," she said. "He didn't have support or anyone to help him learn control. And this was before the virus was _known_ about, too, so he could either let himself be experimented on by scientists or stay in hiding and... he did the best he could, chaining himself up on full moons, giving in to a few impulses here and there, but he wasn't happy. I think he's finding some peace of mind there. We haven't stayed in touch." 

Jean-Claude was frowning, but he nodded. "Not all enjoy the change," he said quietly. 

"Who were the others?" Asher asked. "Tara and Kennedy?" 

"And Rack," Jean-Claude added. 

"Kennedy's a recent ex. She... she and I didn't see eye to eye on the magic stuff, obviously, but it wasn't just that. It wouldn't have worked out," Willow replied. She tightened her hold on her legs, trying to curl up into an even tighter ball. "Tara... Tara was a witch, too. She taught me so much. She made me stronger. She... for years, she was my heart and my soul." 

"What happened, _mon colibri?"_

Willow lifted her eyes and looked into Asher's face. "Have you ever been addicted to something?" 

_"Oui,"_ he replied without hesitation. 

"Another witch... she and I... had fun. Too much fun. Amy was how I met Rack," Willow said. "I was drunk on the power he fed me and on the power I raised with Amy's help. The rush... the feel of the power flowing through my body..." she trailed off and shivered. After a little sigh, she continued talking. "Tara didn't approve. We were finally getting back together when someone killed her. I lost it. I went back to that dark power to get my revenge. I sucked Rack dry and then I killed the man who killed Tara." 

She closed her eyes, tucking her forehead in against her knees. "She was the love of my life. I thought no one else would ever love me the way she did... no one ever really recovers from loss like that, you know?" 

_"Oui,"_ both Asher and Jean-Claude said, within seconds of each other. 

Trying to regroup, Willow sucked in a quick breath and forced herself to look back up at them. "I got better. Buffy's watcher, Giles, he took me to a coven. They showed me how to control my powers." 

"Why are you not with them?" Jean-Claude asked. 

"I... the First was starting its show in Sunnydale. Buffy needed me," Willow replied. "And after... well, before after, some of them were converting to the Christian sect. I couldn't go back and limit my magic like that. It's... definitely non-denominational." 

Asher smiled a bit. Before he could say anything, Jean-Claude spoke, _"Mon chardonneret,_ I wonder if Belle Morte is interested in the level of power she could achieve." 

"How would she know?" Asher asked. 

"We told _ma petite_ about her," Jean-Claude replied. "She was... concerned. And then..." 

_"L'ardeur_ was raised and you both fed." 

Jean-Claude nodded. "Perhaps." 

"She, ah, she said she sensed anger and frustration in your..." 

"In our what?" Jean-Claude asked, when Willow trailed off and covered her mouth with her hand. 

_"Mon colibri?"_

Willow lowered her hand, though she did it reluctantly. "She may have called the person your 'peasant woman,'" she said, avoiding looking at them. 

When Jean-Claude chuckled, Willow dared to look up at them again. He was laughing, softly, and Asher was grinning and shaking his head. Willow quickly figured out that what Belle Morte meant as an insult was a source of amusement to the vampires, but she didn't understand why. 

Before she could ask, Jean-Claude said, "Belle Morte is used to seducing people in power, to gain more power for herself, and _ma petite_ does not have political power or celebrity of an exploitable kind. She does not understand why I love Anita." 

"Ah." 

"But, _ma petite_ is special in her own way," he added. 

Asher nodded and put his hand over Jean-Claude's, where it still rested on his arm. Their fingers laced together for a brief moment, before their hands slid apart and they adjusted their positions. Their knees touched; Willow smiled a little as she watched them try to remain separate and fail. 

"Are you all poly?" Willow asked. "Or is this set-up some sort of... everyone loves the Master thing?" 

"If you ask outsiders, you'll hear that I audition everyone in my bed before deciding if they may stay," Jean-Claude said. 

Willow snorted. "That would be exhausting." 

Asher smirked. "But entertaining." 

"Maybe, for the first few people," Willow admitted, smiling back at him, "depending on who you invite or who shows up, anyway." She wrinkled her nose. "Sounds impractical, too, though, and you don't strike me as impractical." 

"We've only just met," Jean-Claude said. 

Willow shrugged. "Sure, but you have businesses and a secure place full of shapeshifters and vampires and awesome power that I can sense through my shielding, and you're the concern of someone all the way in freaking France. I don't think you got that way by being impractical." 

"Clever girl," Jean-Claude murmured. 

"I'm not a complete idiot, despite how bad I let myself get," she said. 

Jean-Claude nodded. "I do not force people to audition in my bed," he said, after a moment's pause. "Some of us are varying degrees of polyamorous, I suppose, but that is not a requirement for admission into my kiss---or into my home." 

Willow nodded. She hadn't been particularly concerned---her interactions with Asher hadn't given her any worries about offering sexual favours to him or to Jean-Claude---but she was curious. Asher and Jean-Claude seemed very close and the mentions of Jean-Claude's human servant sounded romantic; she wanted to know how that could be and she wanted to know what sort of world she'd be entering if she chose to stay. 

"You are intuitive," Jean-Claude murmured. "I can sense strength in you, too, but I cannot determine its source." 

"It does not smell like shapeshifter or necromancy," Asher commented. 

_"Non, tu as raison_ [No, you're right]," Jean-Claude replied, his voice still quiet. "Does it bother you that I love men and women?" he asked. 

Willow smiled, shaking her head. "No, that definitely doesn't bother me." 

"What was it that kept you from wanting to stay in the other cities?" Jean-Claude asked. 

With her smile fading, Willow looked away from him and back to her knees. "Chicago just... didn't feel like a good fit. Minneapolis was worse. Milwaukee was the worst. The Master of the City there wanted to make me hers. Her witch. Her slave. She wasn't clear. I assumed both and broke out of my guest lodgings as soon as the vamps were sleeping for the day." 

"Would it have been so bad? I have heard she is a beautiful vampire." 

She glared at Jean-Claude. "Yes, it would've been so bad," she replied. "I am no one's _slave."_

"What about partner?" he inquired. 

"She didn't want to make me her partner," Willow said. "And I have enough bad blood on my karmic scales already." She looked from Jean-Claude to Asher and back again. "What do you want me for?" 

"Honestly?" Jean-Claude responded. 

"As honestly as you can would be appreciated," she said. 

"I am, as Belle Morte is, curious about your strengths," he admitted. "But, my tastes do not run to rape of any kind." 

Willow didn't know him and she wasn't willing to let down her shielding, but the blank expression and nearly-flat voice he employed made her believe his words were true. If it had been anyone with less power in front of her, she might have considered daring to try reaching out to taste the power. Jean-Claude was so far above her weight-class, in terms of strength, that she didn't know what would happen. She couldn't discount Asher, either. His power was fainter, but there was something _under_ what he presented. She didn't want to risk a metaphysical accident; she kept her shields tightly locked. 

After watching him carefully for another minute or so, she dropped her eyes. 

"I wish you would move past your fear and embrace your abilities," Jean-Claude murmured. _"Ma chérie,_ I can feel you. As if you were a wild animal forced into a cage too small for your size." 

"Wild animal," Willow echoed. She snorted. "I might be worse than that." 

"You misunderstand," he said. "You think 'wild' like vicious... perhaps rabid, _oui?_ But, in actuality, I mean 'wild' like pure and natural." 

"Oh." 

He smiled at her. "A wolf---or any sort of beautiful predatory animal, for that matter---is not evil. Neither is a witch. You are both neutral." 

As her chest tightened, Willow hugged her legs to her body a bit more tightly. She only looked up when she felt Asher's hand against her arm. She wanted to ask all the questions suddenly swimming around the inside of her head--- _why are you saying that? do you believe it? are you trying to butter me up? what do you get out of my lowering my shields? what do you want me to do for you? why are you saying things my own family couldn't say?_ \---but she couldn't get her mouth and voice to work the longer she looked into Asher's blue eyes. She saw sadness there, in his gaze, but she also saw something positive... something like hope. 

She had to swallow twice, but she eventually found her voice again. "Sorry. It's... I'm... this is... a lot?" 

"Take your time," Asher whispered. 

Looking into his eyes, she forgot that Jean-Claude was still there. Asher's eyes were a mirror to some of her thoughts---or some of her desires, if she had to be specific---and she didn't want to turn away from him. 

"Shall I leave you two alone?" Jean-Claude asked. 

When Willow looked at him, she found him smirking at her. Her cheeks flushed before she could take a calming, controlling breath, and she shook her head. 

"There's no need for shame or shyness," Jean-Claude said. "I value love in all its forms. Infatuation, lust, attraction... affection... comfort... we all have need of them." He arched an eyebrow. "Unless you do not appreciate the male form?" he asked. 

Willow blushed a bit more. "N-no," she replied. "Just because I've dated more women than men, that doesn't mean---hey, um, that's not really your business, Jean-Claude." 

His smirk morphed into a grin. "I like to stick my nose where it doesn't belong," he joked. 

"Curiosity killed the cat." 

He cackled. Willow felt the sound against her skin, as if it were a caress, and it distracted her from her immediate concern of having overstepped her bounds. The guards shifted their feet where they waited and watched; Willow half-expected to be hauled off for questioning. But, as soon as the laughter faded, Jean-Claude looked at them and shook his head. 

"It wasn't a threat," he murmured. 

"No!" she said quickly. "It wasn't! I swear." 

"I know," he said. He turned to the guards and made a waving motion with his hand. "You may step outside," he said. "We are fine here." 

One of the figures from the sea of black leaned forward. "Are you sure?" the man asked. 

Jean-Claude nodded. _"Oui,"_ he said. 

"We will wait in the hallway," another guard said. 

_"Merci, Jake."_

No one spoke or acted until the last guard slipped out through the curtains. Even once they were finally alone, it took a few minutes before anyone did anything beyond watching and waiting. Willow hadn't fully considered how dangerous her position was until her mind pointed out that she was sitting between two powerful vampires. Asher wasn't as heavy as Jean-Claude against her shields, but she couldn't discount either of them. They were heavy hitters and she was starting to feel small---like prey. 

"Alone at last," Jean-Claude said. 

"What do you want to know?" 

"Is there anything we should know, _ma chérie?"_ he asked. "Anything that might affect my decision?" 

Willow frowned. She wasn't sure what Jean-Claude wanted from her; she wasn't sure what in her history was relevant. 

"I… there's no one after me, as far as I know," she replied, after taking a few minutes to think. "Buffy might send someone to look for me, but I did my best to cover my tracks." 

"Through magical or mundane methods?" Asher asked. 

"Mundane, mostly," she said. "I used a few glamours when I had to use a credit card to get more cash. The same ones, every time. But then, the well ran dryer, and---" 

"And what?" Asher asked when she stopped talking and turned to look at the wall. 

"Would I have to pay rent?" Willow asked. "I mean… I know I need to find a job, but I imagine security and discretion are expensive and---" 

As soon as Willow noticed Jean-Claude's raised hand, she stopped talking. She rested her chin in the valley made between her knees and waited for him to talk again. 

"I will not charge you rent," he said. "Firstly, because it is cruel---and ineffective---to put you to work while you are not at your best, but also, because I feel as if we are responsible for bringing you to Belle Morte's notice. I would like to make reparations by offering you shelter and protection. If, once you have recovered your strength, you would like to stay, we will revisit the idea of you contributing to our little coalition." 

"Thank you," Willow murmured. 

"However, I do not know you enough to trust you completely," he said. He shared a look with Asher; both vampires nodded, Asher then Jean-Claude. "Would you be amenable to remaining with my _témoin_ , until the time comes when a change needs to be made?" 

"As long as Asher's fine with it," Willow replied. She looked at Asher. "I don't want to intrude or anything." 

Asher smiled. "I do not mind," he said. 

"Will I be confined to the suite?" Willow asked as she glanced from Asher to Jean-Claude and back again. 

_"Non,"_ Jean-Claude said. "There are times when we may request a guard follow you, but it may be for your protection as much as it is for ours. For now, you are free to roam. If you are nervous about wandering the halls where wereanimals and vampires roam, you may request company." 

"I can feel the power here," Willow said. "I might not want to be alone until I understand the lay of the land better." 

Jean-Claude nodded. _"D'accord,"_ he agreed. _"Mon chardonneret?_ Do you object to my assigning Jason to keep the little witch company---" 

"The little witch?" Willow interrupted. 

"---during the day?" Jean-Claude finished. When Asher shook his head, he turned back to Willow. "I used 'the' because I suspected you would not want me to use 'our.'" 

She pondered the two different phrases---'the little witch' and 'our little witch'---and she did her best to squash down the want that the word 'our' stirred up inside her thoughts and soul. The idea of belonging somewhere---and to someone---made her chest ache. She looked at them, wondering if it were too soon, but decided that with Asher calling her 'mon colibri' and Jean-Claude already calling her 'ma chérie' being called their witch was a phrase that wouldn't hurt until she had to leave. 

"'Our' is fine," she said, trying not to let her voice grow softer but failing. "I mean... technically. And I'm here until you get sick of me. And... and..." 

Asher's hand slipped down her arm and wrapped around her fingers. "It is not weakness to want to belong somewhere. We all feel it." 

"Are you reading my mind?" she asked. 

He shook his head. _"Non,_ but you have expressive eyes and I recognise that look." 

Willow put her free hand up to her cheek, as if to hide its flush. "I... oh. Well, um, that makes sense." 

"Give us a chance while you give yourself one," Asher advised. "Perhaps you will find St. Louis to be a good fit." 

She smiled a bit and daringly threaded her fingers through his. After a little squeeze of her hand, she said, "So far, so good." 

When she lifted her eyes to Jean-Claude's face, she was surprised to see a soft smile on his face. He was focused on Asher and he was smiling as if something good were happening in front of him. He blinked, once, slowly, and looked at Willow; the smile never left his face. Willow wanted to ask Jean-Claude what he was thinking, but she also knew that would probably be a breach of protocol. She didn't think a lowly visitor with very little power and control of their own should be asking the Master of the City to share his thoughts. 

"Is there any equipment you require?" Jean-Claude asked. 

"Equipment?" Willow echoed 

"To help yourself reconnect with your magic," he said. 

"Oh." 

He raised an eyebrow. 

Willow shrugged. "Maybe... candles? I... I don't know if I'm ready for anything yet. If it's okay with you, I'd like to be less shaky before I even think about anything more," she admitted. 

"Very well," he said. "When you have need of something, simply mention it to _mon chardonneret_ or to Jason if I am not around and we will ensure you have what you require." He held her gaze before he spoke again. "I do not limit this offer to magical supplies, _ma chérie."_

"Thank you," Willow whispered, after giving a little nod. 

_"Bon."_ He clapped his hands together. "I must prepare for the evening's work. _Mon chardonneret,_ would you like to join me while I prepare?" 

Asher smirked. "I will meet you in your room." 

Jean-Claude rose to his full height---shorter than Asher but taller than Willow---and shifted his hips as he brushed his fingers through his hair. With a little smirk of his own, he twisted his body as he bent at the waist. Asher moved as if he were familiar with Jean-Claude's actions---or as if he were connected to Jean-Claude in some way---and tilted his head up towards him. Jean-Claude cupped Asher's cheeks in his hands on his descent. They shared a kiss before Jean-Claude pressed one knee between Asher's legs, into the cushion, and inched closer for a deeper kiss. 

It wasn't arousal she felt---it was too soon for that---but she definitely appreciated the sight of the vampires in front of her. She'd just gotten used to them sitting together, but then they changed the rules and she found herself looking at an even more beautiful image than the previous picture they'd made. 

"Well, that's really not fair," Willow muttered under her breath. 

Jean-Claude laughed into Asher's mouth. His hands smoothed from Asher's cheeks to his hair; he stole another quick peck from Asher's lips. 

"I do love how she appreciates you," Jean-Claude murmured. 

_"Mon corbeau---"_

"He's right," Willow whispered. "It's not just him. You two are gorgeous together. It's completely unfair and nothing you'll ever say will change my mind. How does anyone think clearly around you?" 

"Around me, or around us?" Asher asked. 

"Both! Either!" Willow squawked. "Everyone I've seen here is very lucky in the looks department. It's insane. But you two take the cake, separately and together." 

Jean-Claude chuckled and the sound brushed against Willow's skin again. She rubbed her arms against the too-good sensation. She had no idea what the Master of St. Louis did for _work_ , but she also had no idea how anyone else could work around them so she hoped his occupation was a solo activity. Quite frankly, she had no idea how anyone worked around any of the preternaturals---at least in St. Louis---because the ones she'd encountered so far _were_ amazing, each in their own way. She wasn't looking for a romantic (or sexual) entanglement, but she wasn't blind, either. 

"You will be good for Asher's outlook," he murmured. "I feel much better about leaving him to your tender mercies," he added, winking at Willow before smirking at Asher. "Unless you'd like to tag along and watch, _ma chérie_?" 

She squeaked and then shook her head. "No, thanks. Maybe another time," she said, trying to sound more suave and worldly than she felt in that moment. 

Jean-Claude moved away from Asher enough so he could take one of Willow's hands into one of his. Instead of turning her arm over so he could bestow affection to her wrist, he kissed the back of her hand. 

"I look forward to seeing you again," he said as he brushed his thumb over her knuckles. "I would like to get to know you better, if you are agreeable." 

Willow blinked. "You're… serious. And you're really okay with me being here." 

_"Bien sûr_ [Of course]," Jean-Claude said. "I look forward to discussing magical theory with you. I already have many questions." 

After smiling at her and releasing her hand, Jean-Claude turned back to Asher. 

"Join me when you can, _mon chardonneret_ ," he murmured, before stealing one more kiss. 

Asher hummed softly and nodded. 

Willow watched Jean-Claude saunter across the room, towards the curtains. He paused before disappearing through them; he cocked his hips as he peeked over his shoulder at them. 

_"Ma chérie,"_ Jean-Claude said, _"Ici, c'est la cirque._ [Here, it's the circus.] You will fit in marvelously." 

Once he was gone from sight, Willow looked at Asher. "What does that mean?" 

Asher smirked. "I will show you our circus later, if you'd like," he said, "and if you do not mind waiting for me to return before going outside." 

"That would be great," Willow replied. 

The last time he'd taken her above ground, he'd asked her to wear a blindfold until they were clear of their surroundings. She'd picked up on amusement and fear and she'd heard sounds of a crowd enjoying itself, but she hadn't been able to put the mystery of her location together. She looked forward to being able to know where she was and what sort of cover protected Jean-Claude's hideaway. 

When she yawned, Asher leaned forward and touched her arm again. "Feeling worn out, now that the excitement has passed?" he inquired. 

She nodded. 

He eased her up to a standing position. "I asked someone to ensure a light snack for you, so it should be in my outer room," he said as she found her footing at his side. "But, perhaps you need a nap to restore your strength." 

"I feel like... you know how you get so amped up or worried about something and then it's over and holding onto all that energy just... wears you out?" she asked. 

Asher smiled a little. "Is that what happened?" he asked. "You were so worried about meeting Jean-Claude?" 

"A little," she admitted. She and Asher had decided on honesty, so she inhaled a deep breath before continuing to talk. "Also, it was a bit of a rollercoaster for me. The stress, the relief, the suspicion, the... the... wow factor. I'm kind of tapped out." 

With a nod, Asher wrapped his arm around her back. "I will not push, _mon colibri,_ but I, too, wish you would embrace and reaffirm what power is inside of you," he whispered. 

"So you guys can collect a witch?" 

"What makes you think we don't already have one here?" he asked. 

Willow shrugged. "Can't feel anyone like me down here," she said. "I thought... earlier... there was something... cold, maybe? Different from vampires. Not that you're all cold, but you contrast from the shapeshifters, temperature-wise. But earlier, I thought I felt something... else." 

"Perhaps it was Anita," Asher said. "She has a different flavour of energy." 

"Oh." 

Willow wasn't sure what to say about Anita. Belle Morte didn't seem too impressed with her but Asher and Jean-Claude spoke warmly of her. She tried not to make assumptions of people she hadn't yet met, but she felt a little grudge towards the other woman because Belle Morte's curiosity had started with Anita's anger. 

In the place of anything she might have said, she remained silent, flashed Asher a small smile, and allowed him to guide her back to his suite.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I might be slowing down the pace a little after this for a couple reasons. The main reason is that it will be November soon, and I'm going to try for another 50K on an original story/world I've been trying to build for a few years now. 
> 
> But, the other reason is I've started thinking about what comes after Alive at Last, Living Underground, and Nightmares in Waking Life. Anyone who read the stories on PDS knows I stopped before I could finish NiWL, but I don't know if I'd ever said that I was 95% sure I knew what would happen at the end of the story. Lately, I've started the audiobooks for the books in the series I've never read (I'm on _Affliction_ now), and while I am not sure how I feel about a lot of the post- _Micah_ stories, some of them have given me ideas for what happens next. There have been so many ideas that I've already started scribbling plot points down---as well as a title (Lives to Save)---and trying to make little adjustments and additions to my rewrites and edits to allow for the fourth story if I ever get to that point (but I reeeeeally want to, you have no idea how much I'm looking forward to it). So, my fic writing time is now split between tackling the next chapters and jotting down things I want to have happen much later. 
> 
> I hope I get there. I hope you're able to stick with the series until I do <3


	8. Chapter 8

When Asher started moving, Willow set her book down in her lap. He'd returned to sleeping---or what passed as sleeping for vampires---in the beyond-king-sized bed in his inner chamber about a week after Willow met Jean-Claude and earned permission to stay at least until she felt better. It hadn't been his choice; Willow was fairly sure that he'd have continued going to his coffin or to Jean-Claude's bedroom if she hadn't pushed the issue. She'd felt a need to inconvenience him less so she worried out loud until he yielded. 

She didn't keep the same schedule as he did---with a couple of the shapeshifters as willing guides, she felt comfortable enough to go out into St. Louis without Asher---but she liked to be there when he woke up for the night. Spending time with Asher was enjoyable, yes, but she also wanted to be there when he woke up so she could make the offer of her blood---again. 

Every time she offered, Asher refused. She'd started offering to try to even out the debt she felt she owed him, but the more Asher refused the more her ego felt bruised. When he said he'd find food elsewhere, she wondered if there was something wrong with her, if she wouldn't taste good to him; when she asked him if he believed there was something wrong with her blood, he told her there wasn't, but she had her doubts. 

_"Bonsoir, mon colibri,"_ Asher murmured, voice soft but not thick from sleep. "How was your day?" 

After drumming her fingers against the hardcover book, a treatise on the physics of magic, she turned her head and smiled. "Just fine," she replied. "I've been doing some reading today. Nothing big." 

Asher rolled towards her, propped himself up on one elbow, and reached for her book with his free hand. He smiled as he saw its cover. 

"I'm glad you've decided to try to embrace what you are," he said. 

"Is that what I'm doing?" she asked. 

He smirked. _"Oui."_

"You don't know me that well." 

"But, I am learning you," Asher said. 

Willow smiled. She didn't want to admit it, but she knew he was right. Not knowing every detail of her history didn't matter when they spent so much time together. Asher was perceptive; he'd already proven that he could read her behavior when she found herself emotionally wrought and he was starting to apply his ability to the calmer times, too. 

"All right, Goldilocks, what am I thinking now?" she asked. 

He put the book back in her lap. "You are unsure of me, of all of us, still," he replied, "but we are growing on you. You like the energy here but that makes you nervous. And you want to relearn how to embrace your gifts but you are still hesitant to do so." 

"Smartypants," Willow muttered. 

Asher chuckled and patted her knee. "I have had a long time to learn how to observe people," he said. He sighed, but the sound was neutral and didn't brush over her skin with any particular emotion. "Would you like to go out tonight?" he asked. "You haven't seen all of our businesses. Perhaps you'd like to see Guilty Pleasures the proper way? Or Danse Macabre?" 

"That'd be fun," Willow said. "Either works for me. Whatever you're in the mood for, tour guide." 

Asher grinned. "I prefer it when you call me Goldilocks," he said. After another pat to her knee, he said, _"D'accord,_ I will vote for Guilty Pleasures." 

"Sounds good," Willow said. "But, you'll have to give me singles and show me how to… tip." 

"You've never been to a strip club?" he asked. 

Willow shook her head. "Not unless you count your gallant rescue," she replied. 

"We should remedy that," he said. Then, he frowned. "The dancers are all male," he added. "Will that be a problem?" 

"Beauty is universal," Willow said. "Just because my last relationships were with women…" she trailed off and sighed. "I was sure I was, like, one hundred percent gay, but looking back, I think I just like who and what I like and I'm not gonna think about it too much." 

"You will not find judgement here, no matter your inclinations," he said. "It would be very hypocritical of many of us." 

Willow smiled. "I've been realising that," she said, knowing her voice had gone a little soft but not caring enough to try to hide it. "I really like it here. And here-here." 

"I am glad," he said. "I will leave you to your reading. I will use Jean-Claude's bathroom, so feel free to use the facilities here to prepare for our outing." 

"I don't mind if you…" 

"It is easier, if I am to feed there first," he said. He patted Willow's knee again and moved up from his reclining position. "Do you want me to send for someone to bring you food?" 

"I ate earlier," she said. "I wouldn't say no to a snack after we go out, but I'm good for now." 

He nodded. 

"Asher?" 

_"Oui?"_

"Who do you feed from?" she asked. "I mean, do you have a… what's the term again?" 

_"Pomme de sang."_

She nodded. "Yes, one of those. Do you have one?" 

Asher shook his head. _"Non,_ I do not," he replied. "It feels unfair to burden someone with… well. Normally, being one's _pomme de sang_ is an honour," he explained. "It is not a position of power, but it may be considered one of privilege. You've noticed that Jason does not lack anything… except for tact?" 

Smiling, Willow nodded. "I've noticed," she said. 

"Jean-Claude treats him well. Perhaps in your world view, you would see his treatment as something similar to the way a person treats their lover. Sharing blood is very personal, and for Belle Morte's line, such intimacies are often very sensual as well." 

Willow nodded. She could easily see how Jean-Claude could make something like sharing blood a sensual experience; when she'd met him, she thought he made standing and sitting sensual. She wondered how the experience could be with Asher, since the flavour of his power was similar to that of Jean-Claude even though it was less. 

Deciding to push on with her investigation, she asked, "So… you don't want to get that personal with someone?" 

Asher's smile faded. _"Non, mon colibri,_ I enjoy personal contact," he replied. "I would not force someone to feed me regularly if they did not want to be saddled with all that I am." 

Willow snorted. "You're being silly again," she said. "You're a catch." She made sure to keep eye contact with him as she asked, "Do you want to feed off of me? You wouldn't have to go anywhere. You could just feed here." 

He shook his head. "I still have a few willing donors," he murmured. "Rest and read. I won't be any longer than a couple of hours." 

Tracking him as he walked around the bedroom, donning a robe and combing his hair into place, Willow tried to keep her mouth from curving into a frown. She succeeded until he left the room---even managing a little smile and a wave when he hesitated at the door---but as soon as she was alone she gave into the impulse to express her confusion and uncertainty. She wanted to know what Asher wanted from her---it didn't seem to be blood and it wasn't sex, either---and she didn't know how to get that information.

&&&&&

"So… what am I doing here, exactly?" Jason asked as he joined Willow on the floor. He cradled a bowl of rocky road ice cream---his choice of after-work snack---in his hands and he crossed his legs. "You want me to sit here and watch you study magic?" 

Willow looked up from the candles she'd set on a platter and nodded. "In case something goes wrong," she said, "yes, I do." 

Two hours at Guilty Pleasures had loaned her more energy than she'd expected. It had been electrifying! It might have been the focus of the energy---from the audience and from the performers---and it might have been whatever Jean-Claude had done from his position on the stage---she didn't know what it was but she'd felt something. Whatever it was, it had set her skin tingling and stirred up whatever magical power was left inside of her. 

Even on the drive back to the Circus, while Jean-Claude and Asher teased her about her first night at the club and asked how much she enjoyed it, she knew she was going to try to see if she could use that weakened power to do _anything_. 

Candle work seemed like her safest bet. 

"What do you think I can do to stop you?" Jason asked. 

Willow closed her eyes and took in a deep breath. "Get my attention, knock me out… something," she said as she exhaled. 

Chuckling, he said. "Okay, but then you won't like me anymore." 

"I'm not sure I like you now," Willow muttered. 

Jason's chuckles turned into a laugh. "Liar." 

Willow snorted but didn't open her eyes. She was nervous, but she was also eager; she needed to try, but she also needed to calm and centre herself. As safe and secure as she felt with Jason there, she wasn't sure if his curious gaze would help her achieve any sense of quiet. 

After two deep breaths, she reached down inside of herself for the pieces of magic that were hiding. She combined the pieces she had used throughout her journey to St. Louis---the small fragments needed for glamours and disillusionments---and then she gathered what remained of the pieces she had abandoned so she wouldn't scare anyone away. 

Magic bolstered by the energy from the club and the underground lair spread through her body. She nearly wept at the sensation. 

Before she could lose her nerve, she raised her hand over the first candle and pushed out with the power she'd gathered. She heard and felt the heat of new fire, a little whoosh and a little jolt against her palm; she moved her hand over the other candles and pushed out each time so that every wick was lit when she opened her eyes and looked down at them all. She smiled and thought a quiet prayer of thanks to whoever might have been watching over her in that moment. 

"Whoa," Jason breathed. "That was... cool." 

Willow huffed out a little laugh. Her palm was tingling---not itching to light things on fire, but just tingling as it remembered what it felt like to act as a conduit for Willow's magic. She rubbed her hand against her jeans and tried not to shiver. 

"You okay?" Jason asked. 

Once she made sure she was still smiling, she said, "It's just been a while since I've done that," she said. "But, I'm fine." 

Jason ate a spoonful of his ice cream and nodded. "Okay, if you say so," he said. He uncrossed his legs and settled down onto his stomach before continuing to each his snack. "So... now what?" 

"I don't know," Willow admitted. "There are exercises... but I don't know if I can---" 

She stopped talking when she felt someone else's power wash over her. It felt like a cool wind, brushing and tickling, but there was something forceful in it. Willow bristled. Her own power swelled, the candles' flames stretching up a bit taller as she tried to push that wind out of her personal space. 

Whoever owned that power didn't like Willow's tactics, apparently, because the cold increased around her. It drowned out her own power until Willow's fear let a lot of it loose; she screamed, the candles blazed, the warmth fought back against the cold. 

"Stop!" Jason shouted. "Anita! STOP!" 

Surprised that Jason wasn't shouting for Willow to stop, she looked for him. He was standing, his snack abandoned, and he was between Willow and another woman. The other woman was a little shorter than Willow, a little more delicate looking, and a little more dangerous---if the gun in her hand were any indication. 

"What the fuck is going on?" the other woman demanded. 

She tried not to scream again---she hated sounded weak---but guns really upset her. The sight of that dark metal pushed against her restraint and a fearful yelp managed to escape her throat. 

Without any sign of hesitation, Jason backed up and moved so he was kneeling at Willow's side. He wrapped his arms around her and murmured calming words into her ear. The feel of the forest teased her senses and loaned her a sense of calm. The candles' flames returned to their normal size. 

The curtains moved aside and Jean-Claude stepped into the room with Asher at his side. 

_"Ma petite,_ what have you done?" Jean-Claude asked. 

"I didn't do anything!" 

Willow inhaled a deep breath and closed her eyes. She felt a bit better with the master vampires in the room with them; she felt like she could reach back out with her magic. After one more deep breath, she reached down with a less-than-steady hand and waved it over the candles. Each flame disappeared, Willow's power sucking the flame into the air. She rubbed her hands together against the tingles left behind by her magic. 

"You're okay," Jason whispered. 

"I... I... yeah," she whispered back. "Just... rusty. And... stuff." 

He nodded, his chin brushing her shoulder. Jason helped her feel better, just by being close, but it wasn't until Asher crossed the room and kneeled at her other side that she started to feel more sure of herself. 

_"Mon colibri,"_ Asher whispered, "are you all right?" 

"I'm getting there," she murmured. 

_"Bon."_ He offered her a hand and she slipped hers into it before she allowed herself to be pulled to her feet as he stood. "Willow, allow me to introduce you to Anita Blake," he said, with a little flourish of his other hand. 

Willow quickly realised that the petite woman in front of her was the woman Belle Morte disliked and the woman both Asher and Jean-Claude loved. She wondered who had taught her that it was acceptable to send unrestrained power into a room over people who hadn't done anything to deserve that kind of treatment. She tried to glare at Anita but she knew her anger was softened by her fear. 

"So, _ma petite,_ you do not need a gun to be frightening," Jean-Claude said, his voice full of teasing. 

Anita turned her head and looked at Jean-Claude as she put her gun back into its holster. As he took her free hand in one of his, he smiled. 

"What's going on?" she asked. "Who is she and what is she doing here?" 

"Must you be so brash?" he asked in reply. 

Anita frowned. "Who the hell is she?" 

He sighed. "This is the witch we told you about," he replied. "I'd hoped you two would meet on better terms, but hopefully we will all move past this encounter." 

Anita looked up at him. He looked back at her, one eyebrow raising. She rolled her eyes. 

"I could feel her doing something from outside in the hallway!" Anita exclaimed. "I didn't know who it was! I was only doing what I thought I had to!" 

Willow wanted to open her mouth and tell Anita that it wasn't very polite to send her magical powers out onto strangers who hadn't done anything to warrant preternatural snooping. But, when she finally tried to push past her nerves and form the words, she felt Asher's hand slide from hers to her shoulder. The angry words faded away under that soothing touch. She let Asher draw her in against his body; he pressed his front into her back and slid both hands down her arms. One hand had been grounding, two hands and a body were positively relaxing. Willow would have marveled at his effect on her if she hadn't been more worried about Anita. 

"Willow will be staying at the Circus, _ma petite,"_ Jean-Claude said. "At least until we figure out why Belle Morte was so quick to visit her." 

"You have other places she could stay, don't you?" Anita said. "Why here?" 

"Is that jealousy?" Jean-Claude teased. 

Anita huffed. "No, it's not," she replied. "She's someone I don't know, with an unknown amount of power, and you guys are risking everyone I know and care about." 

"Enough, Anita." 

At Asher's low voice, Willow felt something change in the air. She wasn't sure what the change meant. 

She didn't get a chance to ponder the change. Jason stepped forward, in front of Asher and Willow. "She's not a risk, Anita," he said. "She doesn't smell like lies. She's nice to everyone. She just needs some help to get back on her feet, and we can do that." 

Anita frowned. "We aren't a halfway house for wayward witches." 

"No, but maybe when she's up to her full strength, she can help us," Jason said. "Maybe she can help you." 

"With?" 

Jason chuckled. "Uh, any of the metaphysical crap that's been happening lately?" he replied. "Wouldn't it be better to have someone _here_ instead of you having to call Marianne any time you have a question or issue?" 

He turned and looked at Willow. "That's not the only reason we want you here," he said. "I swear. But, if you were ever inclined to---" 

"To return the favour?" Willow asked. At his nod, she smiled a bit. "I've wondered how I can do that." She made herself look at Anita. "I have no idea what's going on here, but if I can help, I will," she said. "I like the energy here, Anita. I don't... I don't want to sound pitiful, but I really don't have anywhere else to go. I can't even let down my shielding and I feel better here than I have in months. I don't want to lose that." 

Anita's dark stare softened a little, for a brief moment, and then it hardened. "If you fuck with the people I love---" 

"I'm not trying to steal your boyfriends or anything," Willow said quickly, raising her hands with her palms facing Anita. 

Jason snorted. Anita turned her glare onto him. He, too, raised his hands. "Sorry," he said, laughter in his voice. "It's just... well, it's a little funny." 

Anita opened her mouth to speak, but she snapped it shut and looked at Jean-Claude. He arched an eyebrow when their eyes met. She huffed. As she observed them, Willow thought they were having a private conversation. It took her a few minutes of thinking about everything she knew about the bond between vampire and human servant---which wasn't as much as she would have liked to know---before she realised that they probably were linked mentally. 

"Are you serious?" Anita gasped, all of a sudden. She turned and looked at Asher. "You're thinking about asking---" 

Willow never found out what Asher was thinking about asking her because no one finished the sentence. She added it to her list of curiosities and watched as Anita resumed conversing silently with Jean-Claude. 

After a few more minutes, Anita sighed. Her shoulders slumped and she nodded. 

She looked at Willow and Asher. "Both of you... I'm sorry," she said. "I shouldn't have jumped to conclusions. I just... don't trust new people." 

Jean-Claude and Jason had expressions of surprise on their faces. Willow couldn't see Asher's face, but judging from the way he moved behind her---ever so slightly tensing his body---she guessed he was surprised, too. She assumed Anita didn't apologise often. 

Anita was cute, with her dark curly hair, pouty lips, and body curves. Maybe she could get away with not apologising when she made mistakes. 

"It's fine," Willow said, knowing it would be better to smooth things over than to give a lecture about magical manners. "I get it. New people in Sunnydale didn't always mean hugs and puppies." 

"The town that..." Anita trailed off tried illustrating an explosion with her hands. 

Willow nodded. "Yep. That one. It didn't really explode... more like collapsed, but yeah. Home sweet home." 

"How did you get out?" Anita asked. "Did you evacuate before the collapse or---" 

"I kind of evacuated during the collapse," Willow interrupted. 

Anita's eyes widened. "I... wow." She opened her mouth to say something else, but a buzzing phone on her belt stopped her. She unclipped the device, glanced down at the screen, and sighed before answering the call. 

Before she put the phone to her ear, she looked at Willow. "Can I pick your brain later? I have to take this---it's work---but I had so many questions about that, and---" 

"Absolutely," Willow agreed. 

Anita pressed a quick kiss to Jean-Claude's lips and blew one to---Willow assumed---Asher before she ducked out into the hallway. Jason chuckled and shook his head. Murmuring in French, quietly enough that Willow couldn't hear, Jean-Claude drew him into his arms. 

_"Mon chardonneret,"_ Jean-Claude said over Jason's shoulder, "I believe the crisis has been averted." 

Asher chuckled. _"J'espère que vous avez raison_ [I hope you are right]," he agreed. 

His hands covered Willow's and she let their fingers tangle together. She'd never been overly tactile, but Jean-Claude's underground residence was buzzing with a vibe that promoted touch. Any of the shapeshifters she met had no problem reaching out to make contact; she wondered if the vampires picked up on that or if it were a by-product of their powers (or at least Jean-Claude's power, as their source and master) being rooted in sex and love. No matter the reason, Willow soaked it up and luxuriated in it. 

That Asher wanted to be close to her, as much as she wanted to be close to him, made her heart feel as if it were swelling a bit. She smiled and closed her eyes against the feeling. 

She really hoped she'd be able to stay in St. Louis.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been so long since I've updated this... I have a lot on the go. I'll try to do better. <3

"You know, Jean-Claude has offered you a room of your own," Asher said as Willow puttered around the bedroom and bathroom in her preparations for sleep, as he stretched out and waited for the sun to rise. "You'd have to have a guard outside the door, for now, but you'd be free to go wherever you wish." 

Willow paused in her folding of her clothes. Despite the flutter of anxiety in the pit of her stomach at the thought of being on her own---and at being a bother to Asher---she was able to smile at him. "Are you trying to tell me you don't want me around?" she asked. "Do I hog the covers or keep you from doing super-secret vampire stuff?" 

Asher laughed. Willow grinned and put her jeans and t-shirt on the desk chair before shrugging out of her robe and draping that over the chair's back. She made her way over to the bed in her shorts and t-shirt. Before she reached the edge of the mattress, Asher pulled back the covers for her; she slipped onto what had become her side of the bed after a few weeks of sharing personal space. 

"I thought you might not want to share with me, _mon colibri,"_ he said. "I am sure there are things for which you would prefer to have privacy." 

"Yeah, like showers and going to the bathroom," she said as she removed the covered elastic from her hair. "And, luckily, you have one of the suites with a private bathroom. It has a door and everything," she added as she leaned back against the pillows. She studied him, her smile fading. "Do you mind having me around in your personal space?" 

_"Non,"_ he replied. 

Willow turned towards him and eased onto her side. "Really? Because you didn't sign on for a roommate, so---" 

She stopped talking when he touched her arm. "You do not know much about me," he said, his voice quiet and soft. "Many here think me to be... _un débauché_ … a... a libertine, if you will. _Il était une fois_ [Once upon a time], I had a human servant. I was in love with Jean-Claude, and it was returned, but we both loved Juliana, too." He paused and looked down. "To be honest, a part of me is still in love with her." 

Willow nodded. She moved her free hand over his. "I still love Tara," she murmured. "It's hard to let go of the ones you love." 

He nodded. "Juliana, Jean-Claude, and I were together for years... very happy, together, and in love," he said. He shrugged. "While I will not deny that pleasures of the flesh and of blood are delicious, there is something incredibly good about sharing simpler things. Perhaps it is a little selfish on my part," he continued, finally rolling his gaze back to Willow's face, "but having you here has reminded me how much I enjoy sharing those things with someone I feel I can trust." 

Willow knew her cheeks were flushing. She knew that, even in the dim light of the bedside lamp, Asher would be able to tell. 

"I like being here," she said. "I've been alone for so long... feels like forever sometimes. This, with you, has been great. I don't mind the weird hours. I don't want a room and a guard---as long as you don't want me to go." 

"As long as you do not mind that I die every dawn." 

With a smile and a shrug, Willow said, "You don't snore and you don't hog the covers. Why would I mind?" 

Asher chuckled softly. _"D'accord,"_ he said. He squeezed her arm before he released his grip. "You surprise me, _mon colibri."_

"Why?" 

"It hasn't been that long since I found you outside of Guilty Pleasures," he said, "and here we are. We are nearly strangers, and yet..." 

Willow's smile stretched. "Not so much," she whispered. 

_"Oui, tout à fait_ [Yes, exactly]," he murmured. 

She thought it was outwardly affectionate of him to reach out and brush her hair off of her face, but she still closed her eyes and smiled, leaning into the touch before it drifted away and they settled in for the day. Her friendship with Asher was still in its early stages and she knew neither of them was sure where the boundaries lay between them; despite that, his presence in her life and the closeness they initiated felt inexplicably right. 

A voice in the back of her mind reminded her that he was a vampire. Insecurities about repaying the favours he'd given her---clothing, food, lodgings, comfort, and security---flared back to life. Even though he'd seemed sincere when telling her about his human servant, she still wondered if he'd demand repayment for sharing his space. She'd tried offering blood, he showed zero interest in her body... and she didn't know what else he could want from her. 

Even after Asher died his small, daily death, she kept pondering her situation and all the ways in which Asher might ask her for rent. He remained still and unmoving, like a cold rock, while she flipped and flopped and sighed and groaned. 

She wanted to believe he just wanted to share his space and have some company. Her fears wouldn't let her completely surrender to that belief. 

When she rolled over onto her stomach, she punched one of the pillows, punctuating each hit of her fist with a little grunt. Asher wouldn't mind---he wouldn't wake up until the end of the afternoon, at the earliest. 

"Could you keep it down in there?" 

But, apparently, someone else minded. 

Startled, Willow yelped and tried to get out of bed. Her legs, wrapped in the sheet from her earlier tossing and turning, couldn't support the rest of her body as she tried to sit and stand. 

Soon after she fell in an undignified heap, the door to the bedroom opened. She heard footsteps and then someone's hands gripped her upper arms. 

"God, I'm sorry," a soft male voice said as she was pulled to her feet. 

A curtain of hair brushed against her arms---and then her legs---and she wondered if she'd mistaken the voice for a deep female voice. Once she was steady, but still in her rescuer's grip, she looked up into their face and saw male features set in a pleasant expression. 

"Hi," he said. "I'm Nathaniel. Anita couldn't pick me up at work last night, so I just shared a cab with Jason. But, he has a date, so I decided I'd crash on Asher's sofa and be his breakfast when he wakes up." 

"Nice to meet you," she said. "I'm Willow." 

He grinned. He had a sweet smile. "Anita told me," he said. He released her arms, taking one of her hands in one of his to slowly guide her back to the bed. "Are you having trouble sleeping?" 

Willow shrugged. "A little bit." 

"Wanna talk about it?" 

"About... it?" 

"Whatever's keeping you up and attacking pillows," he said. "This stuff can be weird to people who are on the outside. I get it." 

"Why would you... listen to me?" Willow asked as she sat down on the edge of the bed. 

Nathaniel shrugged. He sat down next to her. "Asher likes you. So does Jason. And Jean-Claude lets you stay here, so I'm guessing he must like you in some way, too," he replied. "I trust their judgement. And you like it here, right? That probably means I'll be seeing a lot of you... and I like making new friends. Don't friends listen to each other?" 

"Well... yes," Willow agreed. She smiled. "I... if you're sure." 

After a smile and a squeeze to her hand, Nathaniel crawled up the bed and settled down against the headboard. He pulled his hair over his shoulder and draped it over his body. He looked comfortable in the pose, but it was also a pose Willow expected to see in a high fashion magazine. She should have expected it; everyone she met, including the guards, had some sort of grace that ordinary people just did not possess. 

"C'm'ere," he said, patting the gap of mattress between him and Asher. "He won't wake up for hours, and if you're game, it'll be way comfier if we snuggle." 

"You sure?" Willow asked. 

Nathaniel grinned and nodded. "I sleep better when I’m with others. You're not a shapeshifter, but you smell good and you've got some sort of energy in you that's kind of like ours." 

The idea of cuddling with a complete stranger wasn't appealing. She didn't like to let people get too close to her until she knew them a bit. But, Nathaniel was friends with Jason---and she liked Jason---and he fed Asher from time to time so he could be considered friends with Asher---and she liked Asher, too. He didn't _feel_ like a stranger, either. Something about his quiet presence felt known, and she couldn't shake the idea that he could be her friend if she gave him a chance. 

She turned around and crawled over to Nathaniel. Before she could settle down, or while she was trying to figure out which way to position herself, Nathaniel turned her onto her side and let her rest her head on his bare chest. She inhaled deeply and all she could smell was vanilla. 

"So, um... do you stay with Asher often?" she asked. 

He squeezed her shoulder with his hand. "I don't live here, so sleeping arrangements at the Circus aren't... permanent," he said. "Sometimes I stay in Jean-Claude's room with Anita and Micah... sometimes I stay with Jason. And, sometimes I stay here with Asher. It depends." 

"On what?" Willow asked. "I mean, if you don't mind." 

"I don't mind," he said with a casual shrug. 

He brought his free hand up and cupped it around his impossibly long hair. Willow followed his hand as it twisted his hair and slid down the gathered bundle. She almost squeaked when she realised he was naked, but she remembered something Jason said about hating to wear clothes when he didn't have to and she was able to suck in the reaction. 

"Anita isn't wild about the vampires dying for the day, so if she sleeps here, it's usually with us and Jean-Claude will give up his bed," Nathaniel said. "If Jean-Claude's bedroom is in use and I'm not welcome to watch, I'll go to Jason. Or, I'll stay with Jason if we're talking and hanging out. And sometimes, if I know I'm going to be Asher's meal, I'll come here. If everyone else is somewhere else, I'll come here, too, so I know I won't be completely alone for long." 

"Makes sense," Willow said. "Don't let me stop you from sleeping in here. If Asher's fine with it... I'm fine with it. You seem okay." 

Nathaniel squeezed her shoulder again. "Thanks. You don't mind sharing the bed with Asher when he... sleeps?" 

She shook her head as much as she could against his body. "Not really, no. He doesn't mind if I snore. He doesn't steal the covers," she replied. "I kind of like having a roommate. Especially here... when I don't have the lay of the land yet." 

"How has everyone been treating you so far?" he asked. 

"Most people have been pretty reasonable," she replied. "I haven't met everyone, though. I mean, just a handful of people, really. I spend most of my time with Asher or Jason, if I'm not in here alone." 

"You should come out more," Nathaniel said. "We're mostly civilised. You shouldn't be afraid." 

Willow wriggled and wrapped her arm around his middle in an attempt to become more comfortable. "I'm not... afraid. I just don't know everyone. And I definitely don't want to stick my nose where it's not welcome," she said. "This isn't my home." 

"Do you want it to be?" he asked. 

"I think so," she whispered. "Yes." 

"Then you should start showing your face more," he advised. He drummed his fingers over her t-shirt, from her shoulder to the nape of her neck and back again. "How about... if I'm here, and not busy, I'll come find you. I know Jason's been showing you around and Asher does, too, but---" 

"You'd do that?" Willow asked, interrupting him before he could say anything else. 

Smiling in the dim light of the room, Nathaniel nodded. "Of course." 

"But..." 

"What?" he prompted when she stopped talking and shook her head. "C'mon, tell me." 

"You're... I mean... Jason said you're one of Anita's, uh, people and she doesn't... and I don't wanna cause trouble." 

Nathaniel huffed---not a sad sigh, but not completely a sound of amusement, either---and squeezed her to him. "I'm not her pet or slave," he whispered. "And she does let me make up my own mind. Yes, she's wary, but she's always wary of new people. I have a feeling about you." 

Having said that a few times herself since she was brought to Jean-Claude's home, Willow laughed. She explained her amusement when Nathaniel asked her why she found his (sincere) words to be funny, and then he wriggled down into the pillows and hugged her with his whole body. Willow might have protested, if Nathaniel had been acting at all untoward, but there was nothing sinister or devious in his actions; he wanted to be closer to her, to receive comfort and give comfort, and she knew she'd be a fool to pass up that kind of support when her thoughts had been anything but comforting. 

Instead of fighting his hug, she settled into it. She let her body go limp and she exhaled slowly. Nathaniel hummed wordlessly in reply. 

"What have you seen so far?" Nathaniel asked. 

"A few rooms around here---kitchen, gym, laundry... the big sitting room with the curtains," she replied. "Jason's taken me to the library and a couple other places around the city. Asher took me through the Circus, and then we went to Guilty Pleasures last week---with me not being nearly unconscious. And we've been for walks at night, too." 

Nathaniel hummed again. After a few notes, he said, "Do you like to dance?" 

"I... if by dancing you mean flailing, then, yes," Willow replied. 

He chuckled. "Well, a couple of friends of mine are having a party in a few days. We can't just go to Danse Macabre whenever we want---or I can't, because my hair gets noticed too easily---and sometimes we just want to dance for fun," he said. "There won't be any alcohol or drugs... just a bunch of shapeshifters and maybe a couple of vampires who want to let loose and have fun. You should come." 

"Oh. I, um, you really think I should?" 

"Jason's coming," Nathaniel said. "I'm supposed to pick him up. And maybe Byron, one of the vampires who lives here. We're meeting some of the others at Stephen's place. He's one of Jason's packmates. He cleared the night with his neighbours, even, so we don't have to worry about noise complaints for a while." 

Willow frowned but made sure to tuck her face into Nathaniel's chest so he couldn't see her expression. "Fun," she murmured. 

"No pressure, all right?" he said. "Just... think about it. I'll mention it to Jason and he'll check with you. If you want to come, we'd be thrilled to take you with us. You'd get to meet our friends without any pressure of the higher-ups being there. No protocol. Just fun and dancing." 

After patting her hand gently on Nathaniel's sternum, she said, "I will think about it." 

"That's all I ask," he said. 

"Can I ask a question now?" Willow asked. 

"Sure." 

"Why can't you go to Danse Macabre whenever you want?" 

Nathaniel snorted. "Well, a lot of us work at Jean-Claude's businesses," he said. "And Danse Macabre would probably be the best place for us to go---we know the bouncers, we know a lot of the dancers, and anyone there is prepared to dance with at least vampires. We do go there sometimes. But, some of us that dance at Guilty Pleasures... we have a bit of a following. And I get noticed at least once a week because of my hair. I want to have fun with my friends, not fend off fans." 

"That makes sense," Willow murmured. "That must be hard... the public and private and people coming up to you when you're trying to have your life." 

Nathaniel nodded. "Aliases help. I usually keep my hair braided when I'm not working... and hats. I wear a lot of hats." 

"Is it worth it?" Willow asked. 

"I like dancing," he replied. "We take actual dance classes. Jason used to dance in high school. I'd never... I never thought dancing was a possibility. It's... freeing. Guilty Pleasures is more sexual than contemporary dancing, obviously, but it still gives me that rush." He sighed and shifted, curling a bit more around Willow's body. "I won't be able to dance on stage forever... and I don't know that I'd want to. But, it's a good fit right now." 

Willow nodded. She understood that. While in university she'd come to the realisation that she'd probably change careers at least once or twice. She'd never imagined she'd end up living through all that she experienced, but experience taught her that change was a constant. 

"I'm sorry I missed you the other night," she said. 

"Hmm?" Nathaniel hummed. 

She smiled. "Asher took me to Guilty Pleasures," she said. "I saw... Byron. And Jason. Jean-Claude was giving out kisses when we left to walk around. He took me to a diner for coffee and pie after that." 

"Maybe you'll come back and watch me dance," Nathaniel whispered. "Maybe I'll pull you up on stage if there's audience participation." 

Willow knew her eyes were wide, but the idea of being pulled onto that stage in front of all of those screaming, writhing, _hungry_ people was a terrifying prospect. Even at the back of the crowd, with Asher next to her, she'd been anxious. She'd enjoyed the performances---they were much more artistic and theatrical than anything she thought they could be---but as soon as Asher suggested leaving for a midnight snack she'd taken him up on the offer to escape. 

Nathaniel pressed his face into her hair. "Maybe you'll come back and watch me dance," he repeated. "Maybe we'll work up to you coming on stage." 

"That... might be best. I'm a big spaz." 

After a little chuckle, a sound that vibrated through Nathaniel and into Willow, he squeezed her to him for a moment. "You haven't freaked out on me yet," he murmured. "I like you, Willow. You're nice." 

Willow drummed her fingers over Nathaniel's ribs. She didn't know why she wanted to touch him---or why she didn't ask him to get dressed---but she accepted that she found skin-on-skin contact with him comforting. Any other time, she would have simply thanked the person and asked a question to steer the conversation away from her supposed virtues, but she felt loose and warm and open so she said the first thing that came to mind. 

"And you're naked," she said. 

Nathaniel tensed underneath her cheek. "Oh, right! Are you---do you want me to put clothes on? I can. It's a thing. I'm just more comfortable---" 

"You're a lycanthrope, right?" Willow asked. 

"I am," Nathaniel said. 

Willow smiled. "Jason explained a bit. As long as it's about comfort... as long as you're not asking me to sex you up..." 

As he relaxed into her again, Nathaniel laughed. "Don't worry. You'd know if I was putting the moves on you," he said. 

His words made her laugh, too. "Good to know," she murmured. She exhaled and turned her face into him a bit more. "I didn't know... I mean we just met. But... is everyone here so... cosy?" 

"No," Nathaniel said. "But, some of us are opportunistic cuddlers." 

"I want to get used to this," Willow whispered. 

"I nominate myself to help with that. I nominate Jason, too. It'll be fun." 

With another little laugh, Willow patted her hand against him. "Sounds good," she said. Nathaniel's hand slid down to the middle of her back and his fingers parted as if to cover more of her body. "Are you in Jason's pack?" she asked. "Is there more than one pack? I don't know how any of the groups work, really." 

"Jason's a werewolf, and I'm something else," Nathaniel said. "You wanna guess what kind?" 

"So everyone knows I'm a witch, then, huh?" Willow asked. "What else have you heard?" 

Nathaniel's fingers tapped against her spine. "Just that you're a witch who's having trouble with your power... and that Asher really likes you, which made Belle Morte curious. And," he continued, "when she's curious, we all have to be very careful." 

"That about sums it up," Willow said. 

"I'm glad Asher found you. He's been happier lately. I think he likes having you around." 

Willow felt her cheeks flush. She wasn't sure what she should say, but after a few minutes of silence she decided to go with the truth. "I like being around him," she admitted. "He... goodness, he makes me feel normal. You all do. But, Asher..." 

"You are normal," Nathaniel insisted. 

She sighed. "My friends... my family. It got so hard to be who I am. I got scared, I cut myself off... I ran. And Asher... he doesn't know all of my past, but he's been so... he and Jean-Claude just said everything I'd been desperate to hear." 

"We've all got pasts here," Nathaniel said. "Some people can't go home, some people hurt loved ones, some people run because they're scared. We aren't saints." 

"So, Asher's taking in strays isn't a problem for you?" 

"Nope. Some things happen for a reason." 

Willow wanted to agree and thank Nathaniel for reminding her of that possibility. She used to believe that the world worked in mysterious ways, when the world was full of wonder and love and happiness, but she was beginning to believe that the Powers That Be were taking their revenge on her for the luck she'd had in Sunnydale. 

"You don't believe me," Nathaniel said. 

"I want to," she whispered. 

"Then try to do it," he insisted. "Even though you're not at your best, of all the places you could have ended up, you ended up here. There are good people here. We look after each other. You could be a part of that." 

"I could be a bad person." 

Nathaniel laughed. "Willow, we just met... and I already know that even though you might have done bad things, like a lot of us have, but you aren't a bad person," he said. He swished at her face with some of his hair. "So, stop worrying. And stop trying to talk me out of trying to get to know you." 

As she opened her mouth to protest, Nathaniel swished his hair into her face again. She sputtered and ended up laughing instead of trying to put emotional distance between them. He rewarded her with a gentle touch of his fingers along her cheek after he pulled his hair away. 

"It's gonna work out," he said. "I heard enough to know you're running from your past and I remember how scary that can be. Just… give us a chance so we can give you a chance. Please?" 

Willow nodded. "I'll try." 

"Goodie. That means we're hanging out again soon," he murmured, his voice lowering into a purring growl. "I can't wait." 

Not used to having someone feel excitement at the prospect of seeing her again, Willow wasn't sure what to say. It took a while, but eventually she decided on honesty that would take them away from what Nathaniel said without jumping to a completely different subject. 

"I'm sorry I woke you up or kept you from falling asleep, but I'm glad we met," she said. She punctuated her words with a rub of her hand over Nathaniel's arm. 

"Me, too," he replied. He caught her hand in his and squeezed. "So, now that we're on our way to becoming friends, would you like to tell me what had you punching pillows?" 

"Did you lure me into snuggle time so I'd spill the beans?" Willow asked. 

Nathaniel laughed again. "No, I offered you snuggles because we feel better when we're touching," he explained, amusement still in his voice. "Wereanimals, I mean. And I know you're not one, but even Anita feels better when we're touching. Skin on skin is best, but even just the weight of a warm, friendly body can soothe anxieties and bad moods. It's not about sex. Just... comfort." 

"You are very comforting," Willow said. "Thank you." 

Before she could rein in the impulse, Willow tipped her head up and back and into the side of Nathaniel's neck. He didn't seem to mind; in fact, she thought she felt him shiver as she inched closer and inhaled deeply. 

Jason brought the feeling of a forest to the magical side of her mind. Nathaniel brought something different; it felt warm and wet and full of fragrant florals. She didn't need to try to uncoil her magic to guess that she was sensing some sort of jungle. 

Since wolves didn't live in a jungle, Willow made a guess. 

"You're a cat," she said. 

"Leopard," he replied. 

"Neat," she breathed, adjusting her position against him so her head was settled against his shoulder. 

Nathaniel brushed her hair off of her face with a gentle touch. "Do you feel better?" 

"Yeah." 

He didn't say anything else, and neither did Willow. The silence started out calm, but the longer it lasted the easier it was for Willow's mind to gather questions and set them bouncing around inside her mind. She thought about the vampires and how different they were from the vampires in Sunnydale; she thought about what Asher could possibly gain from his friendship with her if he wasn't interested in using her for whatever power she had left. After at least fifteen minutes of hard thinking, she couldn't keep her thoughts in her head anymore and the question that was heaviest in her head came out through her mouth. 

"What does Asher want from me?" 

Nathaniel tipped her head up so she could look into his eyes. He smiled at her in a way that reminded Willow of a cat who had gotten into the cream. In that moment, she realised he had been waiting through all that silence as if he knew that she would eventually bring up what was on her mind. 

"Why do you think he wants something from you?" he asked. 

Willow shrugged. "He just... he took me in and he hasn't asked for anything in return yet." 

"Did you ever think he won't ask for anything in return?" 

She huffed. "No, but that's just... I mean, why would he let a complete stranger into his life and not even ask for anything like a little blood?" 

"Well, you're right, in a way, because he's not completely altruistic," Nathaniel said, "but I don't think he's going to demand a quid pro quo." 

"Huh?" 

Nathaniel snorted. "He's not spending his nights saving kittens stuck in trees and helping little old ladies across streets," he said. "He probably didn't look at you and think 'gosh, someone else I can save,' but he might have seen you and thought he'd like to save the beautiful woman." 

Willow laughed at the idea of anyone calling her a 'beautiful woman.' She knew she wasn't unfortunate in the looks department, but she reserved words like those for people whose appearance could make another person's heart stop or jaw drop. She knew what she looked like and she knew she could pass for 'cute,' but 'beautiful' was for other people. 

"Shush," Nathaniel scolded. 

Willow snorted. "Then give me a reason I can believe." 

"I will give you another reason, even though that one is definitely true even if you think it isn't," Nathaniel said. "We are a strong group. Not because Jean-Claude's a cruel Master of the City, not because our other group leaders are vicious. We're strong because we work together. Some of it is because our alphas are strong, but we also protect those who need protecting. And we all get stronger for it. In the beginning, Asher might have saved you because you needed saving and because he was curious about you, but maybe learning you're a witch is the reason why he pushed for you to stay. Not because he wants you to use your powers in our name, but because you're one of us, in a way, and we look after each other." 

"But even that sort of protection has a price, doesn't it?" Willow asked. "I mean, you donate blood---" 

"Usually, I donate blood because I like Asher. And because I want to," Nathaniel interrupted. "I work for my pay cheque. Jean-Claude's company is on that cheque, but that's not why I spend time doing what I can to help. I help because I can. And because I like taking care of people." 

"But---" 

"Sometimes that changes. Sometimes there are orders. Obviously," he continued. "But mostly it's because it's how I can contribute." One set of Nathaniel's fingers brushed her hair off her forehead. "Did you ask Jean-Claude or Asher about this?" 

Willow nodded. "They told me to focus on regaining my strength for now, and if I choose to stay, we'll revisit the subject, basically." 

"And what's wrong with that?" Nathaniel asked. 

"What if the price is too high?" Willow asked in reply. 

"Do you really think it will be? Or maybe you're preparing reasons to run?" 

Willow had been about to reply to his first question, but when Nathaniel asked his second question, she stopped. To run before she got hurt or disappointed---or worse---did sound like something she'd do. Even at her most bravest, her fight-or-flight response was quick to switch to flight. She'd been on the move for months and maybe, just maybe, her mind and body were still in that mode. When she'd heard Asher and the others say things so similar to the words for which her heart yearned, she hadn't relaxed. She'd gotten nervous, instead. She'd grown wary, as if it were all too good to be true and she were readying herself for the loss of that support. 

As she settled into the realisation that her worries might have been a habit of some sort, something to get her ready to move again, Nathaniel's arm around her back tightened. He didn't say anything else; he probably could have heard her heart-rate or smelled something on her, as she knew many lycanthropes could, but he remained silent and steady against her and didn't push at the issue they'd spotted. 

"You ready to try sleeping again?" Nathaniel asked after a long silence. 

"Mmm... yeah, I think," she whispered. 

"You want me to leave?" 

She didn't think about it. She shook her head and snuggled into him more. "Please stay," she whispered. "If you don't mind. I mean, you didn't sign up for---" 

"I love sleeping like this, and I didn't think I'd get anyone to hold tonight," he said. "And, like I said before, I like making new friends." 

Willow laughed softly, more an exhalation than an actual sound. Something in his voice, a little purr that added a darker rumble to his tone, suggested that maybe he liked making less-platonic friends more than he'd previously implied. But, the rest of his voice was filled with good humour and his hands stayed in safe zones and there was the feeling of _good_ that emanated from him or from his power to press against her own magical senses. 

On top of the quiet and steady thrum of energy, there was a light scent of vanilla. It reminded her of Tara---of the feeling of safety and grounding that the other witch had given her---and she wondered if the associations to that aroma had been what allowed her to be so comfortable around the new (to her) shapeshifter. 

"You smell like vanilla," she breathed into his skin. 

"You smell like lilacs," he whispered back, "and fresh air."

As Nathaniel squeezed her again, Willow tucked her face further into the curve of his body. She sighed. Relaxation won out over anxiety and curiosity and she felt sleep slipping over the edges of her busy mind.


End file.
